


Sandbox Love Never Dies

by shortstackedcheesecake96



Category: South Park
Genre: Blood and Gore, Demonic Possession, Demons, Drug Use, High School, Kyle's POV, Love Triangles, M/M, Mentions of Dubcon, Soul Selling, Succubi & Incubi, based on Jennifer's Body, mentions of cannibalism, with a little bit of Eric's POV throughout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:49:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 71,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24700108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shortstackedcheesecake96/pseuds/shortstackedcheesecake96
Summary: Students are going missing, and Eric Cartman has suddenly got hot. Kyle starts to think there must be a connection, maybe even a supernatural one.(Or, when Cartman sells his soul he gets a lot more than he bargained for).
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Eric Cartman, Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 121
Kudos: 242





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic comes from a line in 'Jennifer's Body,' which, if you haven't seen it is a great late '00s movie and is the major inspiration for this fic. I highly recommend!
> 
> This is gonna be quite different to what I usually write, but I'm so excited to share this story with you guys! One of the ways in which it is different is that it's gonna be in present tense. I've never written a multi-chapter in present tense before, and it's a little nerve-wracking. But it's always something I enjoy doing, and I've been inspired my most of my fave fanfics, the majority of which are written in present tense. I apologise for any rustiness in this chapter, and I hope to improve as I go along.
> 
> I'm also going to place a warning here for bloodiness, and slight body horror in this chapter. I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to know your thoughts! Thank you for reading!

The night, so far, has been pretty ordinary.

Kyle had basketball practice, then he came home, had dinner with his family, helped his mom with the dishes, did his homework, then went to bed. It's midnight now, and he's fast asleep. There's a full moon, glimmering like a penny at the bottom of a dark fountain. Kyle hasn't noticed, but Eric has. He's been waiting for this lunar signal. The light from the moon is carving shadows of Kyle's windowpane onto his bed, illuminating his sleeping face - mouth agape, chest rising and falling gently, gangly limbs poking out of the sheets and fanned out above his head.

A typical night, a peaceful scene, but Eric is sat across from Kyle's bed with clammy palms and it has nothing to do with the fact he's here uninvited. That hasn't bothered Eric since he was about eight years old. He's so used to sneaking in Kyle's room now that scaling the wall and picking his window lock is muscle memory. He can do it without a sound. He can be brazen enough to plop himself down in Kyle's desk chair and know he's not going to get caught. But tonight will be the last night he ever does this. After tonight, he will always be invited in Kyle's room. He'll get to wake up to his sleeping face in the middle of the night. He'll get to do so much more in this bedroom than watch Kyle from afar. His heart is pounding, heavy and impatient, demanding he just get on with it already.

So maybe he's come here to mark the end of an era, as well as psyche himself up for what is going to be the scariest, most worthwhile thing he'll probably ever do. He's giving up his soul for Kyle. Literally. That's not some romantic metaphor, or a way of saying he's compromising whatever principles he has. He is really going to sell his soul to Satan for this boy. So he should get to take a look at what and who he's giving it all up for.

If Eric had to pinpoint it, he would say he has been in love with Kyle for about two years. But the reality is that he's been in love with Kyle for so much longer. Before he even knew what love was, before it started to hurt so much. He kind of misses that ignorance, it shielded him from so many things. Sure, it had been confusing when thoughts of tormenting Kyle clashed with thoughts of kissing him, when his vicious snarl or barbed words were just as endearing as his soft smiles and earnest speeches, when common sense told Eric to push Kyle away but he would do anything to keep him around. But confusion was distracting, it could be easily shaken away and he could work with that. He couldn't shake puberty away. He couldn't shake hormones, or the truth hurtling down the tracks to where he was tied.

His fate was sealed long ago. Really, it was all coming to this. The collision of truth and feelings happened when they were fifteen. When some forgettable douche called Eric a fat prick in the hallway. God, Eric missed the blissfully ignorant kid he once was. The kid who looked in the mirror and saw somebody else entirely. What that asshole had said stung, sure, but Eric was used to it. But Kyle had cursed him out. It was volatile, and unprecedented, and fucking incredible. When the confrontation ended, when forgettable douche walked away with his tail between his legs, Kyle had glared at Eric, angry and uncomfortable, and Eric was speechless. The train had hit him hard, and he was destroyed. He loved Kyle, and there was no turning back.

He always knew he would be unhappy without Kyle in his life. It used to just be about keeping him around, somebody Eric could reach for, and fight with, and talk to. He thought that was enough, but it's not anymore. He can't keep it up. He can't keep denying what he wants, he can't keep pretending he doesn't want it. Fighting with Kyle is fun, intoxicating, has been his favourite pastime for years, but he's starting to realise it's not sustainable. He wants this, he wants _them_ , and all the other shit too. He wants to kiss him, and touch him, and do all the things they do together in dirty dreams he's buried in his subconscious. He wants to do that cute, cloying shit that couples do and he wants Kyle to love him back. He knows Kyle doesn't feel the same way right now, and so that means Kyle is winning. He can't have that. This is the only acceptable truce.

That thought emboldens him. He thinks of Kyle and Stan, awkwardly making out at Bebe's house a few weeks ago during a lame, drunken game of truth or dare. He remembers Kyle's flushed cheeks, and lowered chin, and dilated fucking pupils when he and Stan parted. He remembers the devastation, the anger that makes his head swim even now. That was the turning point. That was what made him get his fucking shit together and realise something had to be done. Whatever it takes. He isn't gonna let Kyle win, and he sure as hell isn't going to be bested by Stan Marsh. His fists clench, his jaw pulls tight.

He picks up the backpack by his feet, slips it on his shoulders silently and keeps his eyes on Kyle the entire time. Before he climbs out of the window, he considers coming closer, touching Kyle's cheek, but he refrains. There'll be plenty of time to do that after tonight. He can't wait.

He climbs up on to the ledge and takes one last look at Kyle before he leaves, just to double check...

Yeah. He's totally fucking worth it.

* * *

It's safe to say Eric feels like a jackass right now. He's planned everything so perfectly, followed the instructions set out on all the websites he's visited dedicated to the occult right down to the letter. He waited for a full moon, he went out into the woods and drew a large pentagram with red paint, lit candles at each of the five points. He even killed a bird, and breaking its neck and eviscerating it wasn't as satisfying as he thought it would be. The actual disembowelling of it he was expecting to be gross, but the snap of its neck made him shudder and grimace. He doesn't feel anything for the poor bird now, even as its blood splatters on the ground as he shakes it. He's circled the damn pentagram so much he's starting to feel dizzy. But if it worked for Al Gore, it's gonna work for him.

" _Satanas, non resurget! Anima mea summa voluntate mea!"_

He cracks an eye open and sees nothing but the silhouettes of trees, candles flickering in the darkness. He rolls his eyes before closing them again, clearing his throat.

" _Patremfamilias Beelzebub vocaverunt, et fidelis erit servo tuo si velle meo, det mihi!"_

He got the chants from a book on the occult he found on Amazon. It was yellowing and frayed when it arrived, which Eric thought was really fucking cool. He could pretend he found it in the back of some creepy, old book store. According to this book, these were the chants that unlocked the gates of hell, that Satan was obliged to heed to.

He opens his eyes again, to a disappointing, infuriating nothing.

"Jesus Christ... " he mutters. " _Lucifer! Lux mea est anima tua!_ "

His cry ricochets off the trees, and he growls under his breath, throwing the dead bird to the ground. He didn't plan all this, wait until the 'right moment,' to only then be denied. What if it never worked at all? What then?

_Seriously, fuck this._

He deserves an audience with Satan.

"God fucking damn it!" he yells, directly into the centre of the pentagram. "Get the fuck up here and take my piece of crap soul from me, dick!"

Suddenly, the ground shakes, and before Eric can think if earthquakes are a thing in Colorado, the pentagram crumbles into the earth. The heat hits Eric's face immediately, as well as the sulphur stench which makes him gag. The hole in the ground reveals glowing, red earth and jagged rocks sticking out like giant daggers made for impaling. Haunting, hoarse screams from the abyss make Eric shiver but the sound of roaring fire soon drowns them out. The hole belches out bright, ferocious flames.

"Shit!"

Eric trips as he tries to back away, falling flat on his ass. His eyes are burning, and his breath is ragged as he watches a figure emerge from the flames. All the candles have blown out, and it's hard to make out who the figure is. Eric squints, but it's definitely not Satan. This figure is not as hulking, in fact, it's a lot smaller, slimmer, and oddly human. They emerge from the fire as clean and unscathed as a phoenix. He's a young man, he doesn't look any older than Eric. He's dressed all in black, with a haircut straight out of the 70s. He has severe features, a beaky nose, high cheekbones, and gaunt cheeks. He's smirking at Eric, and his grey-green eyes are boring into him, like they'll rip out his soul without even him asking what he wants in return.

With a snap of his fingers, the candles flicker back to life. They illuminate him now the fire that brought him here has died down. It's then Eric notices that he's levitating.

"There." He grins. "That's better. I must say, Eric Cartman, I've never met a human so impatient to sell his soul."

Eric gulps, startled by this mysterious, powerful stranger uttering his name.

"H-h-how do you know my name?"

He rolls his eyes.

"Because I'm an omniscient superbeing, dumbass. Plus, we used to go to school together. Damien?" he asks, raising his eyebrows and pointing at his face to prompt some kind of memory.

"What the... seriously?" Eric replies. It's all coming back to him now. "The kid with the bad haircut who turned Kenny into a duck-billed platypus?"

Damien huffs, smoothes down his clothes and smiles.

"That's me, and you haven't changed one bit, Eric Cartman."

Eric grimaces again, wrinkles his nose. The only person who ever calls him by his full name is his mom when she's mad at him.

"Cartman is fine..."

Damien laughs, a short, derisive hum.

"I think I'm the only one who has any authority to say what's fine and what isn't in this little transaction."

Eric doesn't buy that. He's the one with something to sell! And why the fuck should he have to speak to someone, who is basically, the deputy manager? He huffs, shaking his head and getting to his feet.

"Dude, what the fuck? I didn't even want you! Where's your dad?"

"My father died, remember? Saving you pathetic humans from that demon Manbearpig. One of his many faults, he was too kind to mortals. He was dumb enough to even fall in love with a couple of them... and he was way too ambitious with his creations. Who in their right mind creates a demon more powerful than themselves? Nevertheless, my father has 'seen the light' since returning to heaven and doesn't plan on coming down to hell anytime soon, so I'm running the show!"

Eric sighs, hangs his head.

"Weak..."

"Don't worry, I'm very good at my job. So you're here because of a boy, right? Kyle Broflovski?"

Eric lifts his head, brows furrowing. Damien is waiting patiently, smirking.

"How do you know..." he stops, rolls his eyes. "Wait, omniscient superbeing, I forgot."

"It seems impossible to me that you should forget such a detail," Damien replies, with a cynical edge to his voice.

"Then maybe you're not as all-knowing as you keep telling me you are..."

"Let's get back to business. You're in love with him, aren't you?" he asks, eyes narrowing like he cares. "You've never wanted anyone more."

Eric doesn't know if it's just some demonic mind control Damien has, or if his insight just triggers longing in his brain, but suddenly all he can see is Kyle. He sees their first playground fight in pre-school; he sees Kyle passed out in his arms as the world seems to implode around him in San Francisco; he sees Kyle smiling at him unabashedly on his couch playing video games, one of the many times where it felt like they were the only two people in the world. He sees Kyle snarling, and seething, and smiling, and staring into space and it hits him then, just how hard he's fallen, just how exhausted he is from loving him without reciprocation. His eyes slip shut, and he hangs his head.

"I _have_ to have him. He has to love me. I...I-I-I'd do anything to make that happen."

"Well - as omniscient as I most definitely am - unfortunately when it comes to soul trading, I can't authorise the selling of any souls that involve an unwitting third party."

Eric's eyes fly open, and images of Kyle fade into disappointment.

"What?" he snaps. "You've got to be kidding me!"

"No, really." Damien shrugs, before crossing his arms. "It's a matter of ethics."

"Wh- ethics?!" Eric cries, voice cracking. "You're the fucking ruler of hell! What do you give a shit about ethics?!" he crosses his arms. "I thought things would be a lot more chaotic down there..."

Damien sighs, like his hands are tied.

"This is business, and there are certain standards. Everything has to be above board."

Eric's eyes narrow. This reeks of bullshit.

"Define 'above board.'"

"Well, I told you I couldn't sell a soul to an unwitting third party, but not an _unwilling_ third party. So I can't take your soul, cast a spell on Kyle while he sleeps so he'll be in love with you when he wakes up... but you _can_ drag him here kicking and screaming, I can take both your souls, and you'll live happily ever after."

Eric arches an eyebrow.

"And that's ethical to you?"

Damien arches an eyebrow in return, a wry one.

"I know your history, Eric Cartman. You have no right to lecture me on the ethics of anything."

Eric chews his lip as he contemplates what Damien is proposing. It wouldn't be hard to kidnap Kyle, drag him here, maybe tie him to a tree so he can't get away, and have Damien perform whatever procedure it is that binds their souls together for eternity. It would be like a warped wedding. But when Eric thinks of the fear in Kyle's eyes, and the sound of his screams, it all tastes a little sour. Besides, wouldn't Kyle resent him for the rest of his life if he was forced to love him? Feel like his love is some incurable affliction? Some condition he has to tolerate? He doesn't want that. He wants Kyle to love him wholeheartedly, even if that means loving him unwittingly. He sighs, shakes his head.

"I can't do that..." he looks at his shoes. "It feels like cheating."

"And what is this if not cheating?"

Eric looks up.

"This is being savvy."

Damien chuckles quietly to himself, as if he's deciding whether he approves of Eric's comment or not.

"I like the way you think, Eric Cartman, and that's why I want to help you. I want to help you finally get the guy you've been yearning for and obsessing over your entire life. There's a loophole here somewhere."

If there's any loophole to be found, Eric thinks, then surely Damien knows what it is already. He's the omniscient one, after all. It reminds him of when teachers try to guide you to the right answer instead of just telling you. Still, he searches his brain. He's still staring at the ground, and when he places a hand on his belly it comes to him. He thinks of all the fat jokes over the years, he thinks of how nobody ever looks at him, or talks about him in a complimentary way regarding his looks (or anything else for that matter). He thinks of how for years Kyle called him 'fatass,' made fun of his weight, or was just downright disgusted by him all together on occasion. It makes sense that, if he looked different, Kyle would see him in a whole new light. He raises his hand to his soft chest, and decides. He looks up at Damien, and takes an encouraging breath.

"Make me attractive."

"Excuse me?"

Eric flushes, rolling his eyes because he doesn't really want to say it again.

"Make me hot... so Kyle will like me back."

Damien grins.

"As you wish..."

He snaps his fingers, and a scroll, a quill, and a knife appear with a flourish. They hover in the air.

"Hold out your arm, please..."

Eric comes closer, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket and revealing the pale underside of his arm. He's trying not to tremble.

"This might sting..."

With that, Damien stabs him in the arm. Eric screams, seething and clenching his jaw as Damien draws a neat, thin line down his arm with the knife.

"Thank you..."

"That fucking hurt you son of a bi- _argh!_ "

Eric screams again when Damien dips his quill into his cut, twirling it around so more blood seeps from the wound. Eric's fingers spasm in pain.

"If you wouldn't mind just signing right here... "

The scroll unfurls, revealing a contract written in calligraphy. Eric glares, snatching the quill from Damien and he tries reading the contract, but it's hard to concentrate.

"Be sure to read the fine print..."

Eric has to squint to read it. The writing is so tiny he isn't sure it even constitutes words, but he's sure it says that selling his soul to Damien means he now becomes a minion of hell. How bad can that be?

"Did you read it?"

"You know I fucking read it, dickhole!" Eric snaps, flushing because at best he skim-read it. "Omniscient my ass..."

He signs the contract, a sloppy, red scrawl, and Damien grins.

"Perfect..."

The contract rolls up again, before disappearing with a 'poof.' Eric smirks, thinking that's not threatening at all, until Damien lowers his head. His grin is cast in a dark shadow, and his eyes are gleaming. He holds out his hands like he's miming choking Eric, but it becomes very real when there's a strong, clamping pressure around his throat. Instinctively, he claws at his neck to rid himself of the tightening pressure but there's nothing there to hold. He tries to swallow, or gulp, but his throat is shrinking. His windpipe is being crushed, and he feels so light-headed he's unsurprised to see that he's levitating. He flails his legs about, kicking the air like he's demanding gravity fucking do something about this, but science can't save him now.

His heart is pounding, and his wound is bleeding, blood dripping to the ground. Finally, the pressure fades, and when he takes a loud, desperate gulp of air, fiery red hornets swarm around him and dive into his throat. He chokes on their wings, and stingers, and they scorch his tongue and mouth, but he can't spit them out. His eyes and nose are running, and there's a tight, heavy ball in his chest that feels like its burning. His soul is on fire, and it's trying to escape, pushing itself up and out of his throat, as heavy as a bowling ball.

The hornets have seemed to transform into tiny, howling imps that whisper and cackle as they soar around him. When he looks down, staring straight into Damien's eyes, he can see they're filled with flames. In fact, the whole woods seem to be burning. Trees are charred skeletons, collapsing into each other. He keeps his eyes fixed on Damien's snarling, grinning face, unable to look away. But finally, he releases him, and he falls to the ground with a thud. The woods are intact, but he knows he's not the same. He's heaving, and coughing, and retching, and he can still feel something wriggling in his chest, maybe a stray hornet, or imp trying to escape. He retches, willing for something to come out, and it's then he projectile vomits vile, black tar. Once he's done, he stares at the steaming vomit on the ground, panting and on all fours.

"What the hell was that?" he cries, hoarse.

"Your soul..." Damien calmly replies.

Suddenly, the vomit shifts, binding together into a shapeless lump. It moves, like it's being sucked into an invisible vacuum cleaner. But when Eric looks up, he sees Damien holding an open jar where his 'soul' is retreating.

"Hmm," Damien adds, in that same, unimpressed tone he's regarded Eric with all night. He closes the lid, and studies his soul. "Darker than most. How do you feel?"

Eric feels better after having thrown up, but it's not a better he's used to. He feels empty, like there's a hole inside him. But he feels powerful too, like there's an electric current in his veins, charging his blood and making his body thrum. His senses feel... if not heightened, then extra sensitive. He can see the outlines of the blades of grass, feel every speck of dirt buried in his fingernails, can hear the footsteps of deer from miles away. But all he can smell is blood - copper, and acrid, and intoxicating.

"Weird... different..." his stomach growls, and he squeezes his eyes shut at the deep, gnawing pain. He places a hand on his belly and clutches it. "I'm fucking starving..."

"New body, new appetite. You're going to have to sate it regularly to maintain those good looks of yours."

Eric blinks, looks up at Damien. His head is still swimming with the pain of his hunger pangs.

"What... what does that mean?"

Damien doesn't respond. He's still grinning when the ground swallows him back up and he disappears into the earth. It's like he was never there.

"Wait!" Eric cries, crawling closer to where he was once standing. "Wait, what does that mean?! Come back! _Satanas, non resurget! Anima mea summa voluntate mea! Patremfamilias Beelzebub vocaverunt, et fidelis erit servo... Lucifer..._ fuck you!"

Eric is panting, and he hangs his head as tries to collect his breaths. He stands up, and is uneasy on his feet. He looks at his arm, still bleeding, and he brings it to his mouth to staunch some of the blood. He sucks on his arm the whole way home, it's comforting, and pain relief for his hunger pangs... plus, it tastes really fucking good. Better than KFC gravy, and Cheesy Poofs, and powdered donut pancake surprise combined.

He enters his house through the back door, and almost stumbles into the wall he feels so faint. His sore, pink arm was a decent enough pacifier, but he needs something to eat _right now_. His nose twitches and his mouth grows heavy at the scent of ribeye steaks coming from the fridge. He ambles over to the fridge, almost ripping the door off its hinges, and a grin spreads across his face when he sees the thick, juicy steaks just waiting to be devoured. He licks his lips, tearing into the plastic packaging and sinking his teeth in. His eyes flutter shut at his first big bite. God, it's so much better than sucking at his arm. The blood is delicious, but getting to sink his teeth into raw flesh, tearing at with his canines and feeling the blood spurt onto his tongue is incredible. He never even used to like rare steak, but he could get used to this new diet if it meant eating being as enjoyable as this... it was one of his favourite things to do before tonight, anyway.

He sinks down the floor, curled up by the fridge, growling, and grunting as he devours the two steaks, like he's a tiger and its feeding time at the zoo. Once he's finished, his hands are red, gleaming, and sticky. He throws his head back, and it 'thunks' against the cupboard behind him. Now, he's full.

It occurs to him, that he was so focused on eating that he hasn't even thought to look in a mirror yet. He pulls himself up off the floor and creeps to his bedroom, turning on the light and standing in front of his mirror. He blinks, disbelieving and delighted, at what he sees.

He's fucking gorgeous.

He's still chubby, with a belly and full cheeks but he feels like he's more in proportion, that the architecture of his body is more defined. He has broad shoulders, and when he pokes at his chest, it's still a little soft. But when he puffs out his chest, actual, visible muscles flex for the first time. He's got fucking pecs! He shrugs off his jacket, and when he lifts his arm and tenses, his eyes almost pop out of his skull at the bulging bicep that appears.

He has a jawline that he can trace with his finger now, from earlobe to cute, round chin. His mild acne has disappeared into a flawless complexion and even his eyes have changed into a bright, alluring amber. His cheeks still swell when he grins but his smile is movie-star perfect, contestant on a dating show perfect. Well, almost perfect, if his teeth weren't stained red.


	2. I am a god

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of this chapter comes from probably the most iconic and memorable line from Jennifer's Body when Megan Fox puts a lighter to her tongue and says, "I am a god." I challenge anyone to not watch that scene and not think about it for the next few days. Going to put a warning here too for a bloody beginning to this chapter and, uh, mentions of cannibalism which is sentence I never thought I'd write. I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to know your thoughts! Thank you for reading!

_Eric has had his good looks for about three days, and the change in how people behave around him has been startling. People actually stare at him now, rake their gazes over him with parted lips and hazy, contemplative eyes. His very aura is magnetic, drawing everyone's attention to him. Girls giggle when he speaks to them, and boys clear their throats and try to tear their eyes away, like they're pissed off that they find one of their male classmates attractive. Eric can't believe it. He knows he's hot, sure, that's what he paid for. But he never thought he could be 'make people question their sexuality hot'. It makes him wonder if Kyle is questioning his own sexuality now in light of his transformation. But Kyle's sexuality always been a mystery to Eric. He knows Kyle inside out except for that one, tiny detail. Kyle_ has _been looking at him though, with shock, and confusion, and intrigue. But Eric doesn't know for sure yet if it's attraction, because Kyle is being as stubborn as ever and keeping his feelings close to his chest. He seems almost offended by Eric's transformation. Kyle likes order. The only time he's really peaceful is if he's in a situation he understands fully, especially when he can explain it to those who don't. No one understands this, so of course he would put up a fight, but Eric is determined to crack him. If everybody else can't resist him, then what makes Kyle so special?_

_Besides, his new body has forced him to realign his priorities. His appetite is his biggest concern right now. He's hungry all the time, and it isn't a hunger borne of boredom, or a need for comfort. It's constant hunger pangs that won't go away. He tries to eat normal food but he doesn't enjoy it. His mom's huge portions no longer sate him. Even his new favourite food - raw meat - is starting to lose its appeal. It's not enough. Meanwhile, his classmates falling all over him are juicy, delectable slabs of meat just waiting to be devoured. Willing lambs to the slaughter._

_Clyde Donovan is the perfect first victim. Unlike the other guys who try to conceal their stares, Clyde has so many giveaways that it's almost endearing. He flushes tomato red whenever Eric grins at him, and all it took was a quiet hallway, and a few words whispered in Clyde's ear to get him to agree to Eric picking up and taking him somewhere private to 'hang out.'_

_Now, they're making out in the back of Eric's truck, with Stark's Pond just a few feet away. It was so fucking easy. The hardest part about it is stomaching Clyde's sickly, muffled whimpers, and smacking lips._

_"Is this... am I doing it right?"_

_"Huh?" Eric asks, pulling back and looking down at Clyde. He's shoved flat on his back, and it looks like his neck is disappearing into his shoulders. His bottom lip is shiny with saliva. "What do you mean?"_

_"This! I..." he flushes, lowers his chin. "I've never been with a guy before."_

_"Oh..." Eric nods. He's not exactly the expert. This is first time kissing a guy too and it depresses him that it's not Kyle, and depresses him even more that it's Clyde Donovan. He fakes a smile. "Oh, you're doing great."_

_Eric swoops in for another kiss before Clyde can start talking again._

_"It's just..." Clyde gasps when they come up for air. "I can't believe I'm doing this. You won't tell anyone, will you?" he's frowning, but then his eyes widen. "Shit, I didn't mean it like that! That sounds bad. It's not that I'm ashamed, or-or-or that I think kissing boys, or kissing you is wrong. Not at all, I just don't know what I am and I'm trying to figure everything out-"_

_Eric almost headbutts Clyde when he kisses him. He just wants him to shut up._

_Clyde whimpers, pained, and Eric can feel his nose scrunching up against his face. He has to watch the aggression for the time being._

_"Sshh..." he whispers against Clyde's lips._

_His breath is hot but it makes Clyde shiver. He smiles, eyes lidded and addled._

_"You're a really good kisser."_

_Eric snickers, chewing his lip as he rakes his gaze over Clyde. He really wants to know what he tastes like._

_"You ain't seen nothing yet," he whispers, pressing his lips to Clyde's again._

_When their lips slide off each other, Eric nips at Clyde's lower lip. Clyde chuckles._

_"You mind if I put some music on?"_

_Clyde shakes his head. Eric doesn't think he'll refuse him anything right now._

_"No..."_

_Eric pulls back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He opens Spotify and music melts out of the car radio._

'I swear by the moon and the stars in the sky, and I swear, like the shadow that's by your side..."

Eric _has shoved his phone back in his pocket and resumed their make-out session when Clyde's nose wrinkles._

_"You really wanna listen to this?"_

_Eric frowns, affronted._

_He is obsessed with this song lately. He hears it in his sleep, and he's been singing it under his breath when he's alone. He listens to it during his midnight raidings of the fridge, and it makes his raw steaks that much more enjoyable. He listens to that song and loses himself to his appetite. It makes him feel complete, and charged, and renewed. Besides, who doesn't like a little music with dinner?_

_"Yeah, it's a classic." He smiles, his voice effortlessly dropping to a low, sultry octave. "Don't you think it sets the mood?"_

_"I-I-I don't know. Maybe..."_

_Eric fights the urge to roll his eyes._

_"Let's just not talk anymore, okay?"_

_Clyde nods, and their kisses are more enthusiastic and eager. Eric doesn't grimace at Clyde's whimpers, or choked-off moans, or when he unceremoniously tries to shove his tongue in his mouth. Instead, Eric's tongue brushes against his willingly, and he continues to nip and nibble at Clyde's lips when given the opportunity. Clyde seems to like it, smiling and writhing beneath him, and when Eric can feel a hardness pressing up against him, he grinds against Clyde to encourage him. Clyde moans, startled, but Eric doesn't stop. He's getting chubby too, and it has nothing to do with Clyde. He thinks he's actually achieving some dissonance between his body's reaction and his immediate surroundings. It's just friction, and hunger, and the song reaching its crescendo. A prickly sensation crawls over his skin like armour encasing him, like hackles raising. Alert and calculating as a predator stalking their prey. He's been hiding in the undergrowth, watching his oblivious prey and now it's time to pounce. He blinks, and the world looks so much different now. Clyde looks more like dinner than ever._

_He growls, seething._

_"You like it when I bite you, huh?" he asks, ragged and voice thrumming with impatience._

_Clyde nods. He's hazy and flushed. His lips part, exchanging a heavy, shuddering breath with Eric. He shifts, sitting up slightly and he starts unbuckling Clyde's jeans. Clyde is staring at Eric's hands, his brows furrowed._

_"What are you-"_

_"No talking."_

_"Okay-"_

_Eric glares at him, and it's the first time tonight that Clyde's looked frightened. He purses his lips and nods._

_"Mmhm."_

_Eric grins. He's learning._

_"Good boy..."_

_He's practically cowering, shivering and submissive below Eric. He's oblivious still, but Eric can tell he's anxious, he can tell he doesn't know why, and that's such a sweet combination. Eric shoves his hand between Clyde's open fly and starts stroking at his semi through his boxers to gauge his reaction. Clyde gasps and wiggles. He squeezes his eyes shut, throwing his head back and revealing his pale neck. Eric grins, it's an invitation he can't refuse. He swoops in, kissing, and sucking, and nipping at Clyde's throat. He swirls his tongue against his skin, and Clyde's fluttering breaths, his cock growing harder in Eric's palm, and the feeling of sinking his teeth just a little deeper into his skin is driving Eric wild. He's going to have to strike soon, but the build-up is tantalising._

_He feels a now familiar ache in his gums, and he knows it's his canines sharpening into fangs. They were a surprising revelation, but a useful one. It's so much easier for him to chew his meat now. He sinks his fangs into Clyde's neck, puncturing the skin. He seethes and wriggles._

_"Ow!"_

_"Sorry," Eric coos, pressing a maniacal grin into Clyde's neck. "Was that too hard?"_

_Clyde nods._

_"How about this?" Eric growls, sinking his fangs deep into Clyde's jugular._

_The blood spurts everywhere; Eric's face, his eyes, the windows, the seats. Clyde screams, deep and hoarse. His body seizes for about a second before he starts to writhe, flapping around madly like a fish out of water. His arms flail about, trying to hit Eric, but he's not letting go. His fangs are jammed into him, pincers holding him down. Clyde starts kicking at the door, and it's like Eric has a frightened, distressed bunny in his truck, jumping about and desperately looking for escape._

_"St-stop!" Clyde cries, in whatever remaining voice he has. Hoarse and wheezing. "Please!"_

_He coughs when Eric knees him in the balls. He needs to incapacitate him just a little more, needs him to stop moving around. He pins Clyde's arms to the seat, and bears down on him with both knees. He's paralysed now, and Eric holds him down until his breathing slows and stops, until his body stops twitching. He sits up when Clyde is finally still, and when the blood has finally stopped spurting._

_Eric's face is splattered with blood, and his lips and chin are smeared with it. His shirt is drenched crimson. He licks his lips and closes his eyes, savouring that copper taste. When he looks down at Clyde, his face is drained of colour, his mouth is frozen in a scream and his eyes are wide and blank. A rivulet of blood trickles from his destroyed jugular. He's red from the neck down. Eric is trembling, and he doesn't know if it's shock, or adrenaline, or fear, or what. He doesn't think too much about it as he leans forward, grips Clyde's hair and tucks in._

_He couldn't finish all of Clyde. His eyes were definitely bigger than his stomach. Clyde was like a buffet spread out before him, and it was hard figuring out what to load up his plate with first. He eats most of his neck, ripping out his throat before tearing into his torso to sample his heart and intestines. It's the first time in days he hasn't felt hungry. He feels full, and rejuvenated, and when he goes about cleaning up his mess he doesn't tremble at all, just licks the blood off his fingers and gets to work. He bundles Clyde's remains up and dumps them in the woods, and then returns to his truck to clean the interior, stripping out of his bloody clothes. He came prepared, with bleach, and sponges, and scouring pads in the trunk, not to mention bright yellow gloves. He knew it was going to be messy, and he wonders whether taking his victims outside would be the best course of action from now on._

_Once he's finished with the cleaning of the truck, he takes his clothes to the pond. He'll clean them with hardier substances when he gets home, but for now he just needs to remove the crusty, congealed stuff. He doesn't shiver as he crouches by the pond in his boxers, wringing out his wet clothes, feet buried in the snow. He hasn't felt the cold in days. He doesn't feel much of anything anymore. He puts his damp clothes on a blanket to dry, staring out at the glimmering, dark pond. It looks so inviting. He stands up, tugs his boxers off, and steps in. The usually icy water is cool against his skin, and when he wades in deep enough, he holds his nose and dunks his head under._

_He soon emerges with a gasp, splashing water onto his face and scrubbing at his cheeks to remove the dried blood there. Some is caked in his hair, and he runs his fingers through it to detangle some knots and remove the small clumps of blood. He floats for a little while on his back, staring up at the moon and the stars. Its nearly midnight, and he has school the next morning but he doesn't care. He feel like he could stay out here for hours. He doesn't feel tired, or cold. For once in his life, he feels like the world is truly his and this time anybody who tries to take that away is never going to be bigger than him, or more powerful than him. He's invincible._

_After a while he grows bored and swims over to the edge. When he steps out of the pond, it's like he's just stepped out of a sauna. His feet sizzle on the snow, and steam rolls off his warm shoulders like mist on the pond. He shakes his hair to dry, and gets dressed._

* * *

It's been a very disorientating few days for Kyle. There have been two grisly murders, and Cartman is hot now.

First, it was Clyde, and just yesterday Red's body was discovered in the woods, not too far from where Clyde's remains were found. She was victim to the same kind of attack too, body parts missing and eaten. Kyle can't believe they're back to this; fear, and alarm, and some mysterious, evil spectre hovering over the town that seems too powerful to defeat. There's a solemn, silver lining to be found in thinking they've been up against this before. But everyone still feels just as clueless as how to stop it. They remember the carnage and misery Manbearpig wrought all those years ago, but it doesn't feel like they've learned anything.

This whole sorry, fucked-up situation would be hard enough to stomach without the other abrupt turn of events, and that is Eric Cartman's sudden attractiveness. Kyle would never call him hot out loud. No way would he give him the satisfaction, and he couldn't live with himself if he did. It seems however, that not everyone is as dignified as Kyle. People ogle at Cartman in the halls, and flush and giggle when he talks to them. Kyle has had to leave the room when whispered, gross conversations regarding his classmates' opinion on what Cartman's best feature is, or what they'd like to do to him (or for him to do them), is too much. Honestly, Kyle thinks, is he really that hot? People are acting like he's fucking Brad Pitt... or Idris Elba... or Zac Efron... or whatever male celebrity people are drooling over the most nowadays, when he's not. Kyle isn't the expert, but he knows Cartman isn't that hot. At a push, he's Chris Pratt in _Guardians of The Galaxy_ hot.

Whatever, Kyle knows it's not important, and he knows that this sudden obsession with Cartman's unprecedented good looks is just a distraction from their collective mourning. But they shouldn't be distracted, they should confront their grief and pull together to find this monster. Besides, grief and horniness is a combination that makes Kyle uneasy. He has a feeling it would make people prone to decisions they'll later regret.

He's about to head to yet another memorial service, no doubt cobbled together by Mackey and the principal in a rush. He has no idea why Mr Mackey even took the counselling job at the high school. Kyle thought he would be glad to see their class leave elementary school and get out of his thinning hair forever.

He sees Annie, standing by her locker alone. Her shoulders are drawn up, and she's holding a tissue to her face creased with tears. She's shuddering with small sobs. Kyle sighs, he can't ignore her. He shuts his locker and slowly approaches her.

He's frowning, his mouth scrunching up the closer he gets.

"Hey, Annie..."

Annie looks up, her eyes are red and sore, and her face looks sticky with dried tears.

"Oh." She sniffles, tries to smile. "Hi, Kyle..."

Kyle is at a loss for what to say next, all he can think of are platitudes.

"Uhh, how are you holding up?"

Annie shakes her head, face crumpling up again.

"I'm not, really," she replies with a limp chuckle. "Every time I think about Red it hurts, and I..." her voice cracks up, her face flushes and scrunches up even more. "I can't stop thinking about her."

She breaks down, and Kyle looks around, bewildered. He sighs as discreetly as possible, not because he's exasperated with Annie but because comfort isn't really his thing. He's good at offering solutions to problems, but he has a feeling that wouldn't be appreciated right now. Kenny told him that, that most of the time people in distress don't need your help, they need your support. He wants to tell Annie it will get easier, but he doesn't know if that's true. He doesn't want to give her false hope.

"I'm really sorry for your loss," he says, wincing and cringing immediately. He takes a deep breath. "I think we're all gonna miss her. You're going to the assembly, right?"

Annie looks up from her tissue and nods, sniffling.

"I can walk you there?"

Annie smiles, and it makes her tear-filled eyes sparkle.

"Thanks, Kyle."

They walk to the gymnasium at a slow, lackadaisical pace. The hallway is quiet, and Kyle wonders if everybody is at the assembly already.

"I guess this is what I should be doing, right?" Annie suddenly says, with a shaky snicker. "The buddy system and all."

Kyle blinks, but then smiles and nods.

"Yeah, yeah, I guess you're right."

It feels a little strange, to be able to make mild jokes about the situation - not about what happened to Red, or Clyde, but just the awful situation they're experiencing together. It's tragic, but Kyle supposes it's just a given when you grow up in South Park, to laugh in the face of insanity. You learn to roll with the chaotic, scary, ridiculous punches. These past few years have been so quiet. The most Kyle has had to worry about is homework, and basketball, and college applications. He had actually started to kid himself that they were finally normal. They missed out on regular childhoods, but they could be normal, boring teenagers. He's mourning that loss, just as much as he's mourning Clyde and Red.

Annie shakes her head, and anger instead of despair seems to cloud her face.

"I mean, what the fuck, Kyle? First Clyde, and now Red. What the hell is going on?"

Kyle shrugs, and his shoulders feel so heavy.

"I wish I knew..."

"God, I hope they catch the sick son of a bitch who did this... do you think its Manbearpig? The police are saying it might be."

"Well, it kinda looks that way, you know the attacks and the remains..." he pauses when he realises he's talking about the remains of one of Annie's best friends. "I-I-I just mean that they're pretty similar, and it's long overdue. But... Manbearpig was so brazen, you know? All of its actions were out in public, and en masse. It didn't hide anything. This just seems... calculated. More human."

Annie nods, tries to consider what Kyle is suggesting with thoughtful eyes before she shakes her head. Kyle doesn't blame her. Imagining that another human could be capable of doing something like this is hard to take.

"I don't care what you say, anybody who can do that to another person can't claim humanity anymore. God, the day her body was found..." Annie stops. Her face crumples up, and she fiddles with the tissue in her hands. "We were supposed to go out in my new car, and I just..." she shakes her head again, and her face flushes harder, burning with anger. "I hate that fucking bastard for taking these things from me. For taking my friend from me. There's so much she's gonna miss out on, and it isn't fair."

She starts crying again, and before Kyle can even think of anything to say, she's dropping her head onto his shoulder. Her lashes are wetting his shirt, and so is her snot, but Kyle resists the urge to grimace because it really isn't important right now. He has no idea what to do, but he gingerly wraps his arms around her and with one, small tug pulls her closer.

"Um... there, there..."

Annie doesn't seem to care if his comforting is subpar. She's still crying into his shoulder. He feels a little more confident, so pats her on the back.

"I know it doesn't seem like it now, but it'll be okay, Annie. One day, it'll be okay."

Annie nods, extracting herself from Kyle's reluctant embrace.

"And if there's anything I can do for you, let me know. "

Annie blinks.

"Really?" she asks with a hiccupping breath.

"Yeah, of course." Kyle smiles. "Anything."

"Okay, umm..." Annie lowers her head, and purses her lips. She fiddles with the tissue in her hands. When she looks up at Kyle, her eyes are bright and gleaming. "Do you know if Cartman is interested in anyone? Or if he's dating at all?"

Kyle feels his face drop.

"What?"

"I just thought that you guys are friends, so maybe you would know if he was seeing anybody?" she smiles.

"No..." Kyle says, shaking his head with furrowed brows. He's at a complete loss as to what's happening. "No, I don't think he is."

"Great, then would you mind talking to him for me?" Annie asks, perking up considerably. "Just tell him to message me if he wants to go out."

"Why would you wanna go out with him?"

Annie arches an eyebrow at him, like the answer to the question is obvious.

"Kyle. Come on. Have you seen him lately?"

Kyle huffs, incredulous as they enter the gym.

"Yeah, he's had some weird, late growth spurt and finally changed his diet but that doesn't mean he's any different on the inside, Annie! He's still the same old Cartman!"

Kyle thinks about that unsettling combination of grief and horniness, and realises if he can help Annie not make a horrible decision then he will.

Annie frowns, folds her arms across her chest.

"Kyle, why is it any of your business? Can you please just do me this one favour?" she snaps.

Kyle tries to argue back, searching her face to make sure that she's serious. Her glare and her frown are pretty hard to argue with, and really, why is it his business anyway? Why does he care so much?

He sighs, eyes closing.

"Sure, fine..."

Annie nods, solemn.

"Thank you," she replies tightly, before finding her friends on the bleachers and joining them.

Kyle frowns, a long, frustrated breath escaping through his nose. He searches the crowd for his own friends, and a smile spreads across his face when he sees Stan smiling at him, waving him over.

A decidedly more pleasant turn of events has been the recent development in his and Stan's relationship. They liked their tipsy kiss during truth or dare at Bebe's to keep repeating the experience, and it's been pretty fun. Kyle doesn't know what it all means exactly. He doesn't know if it means he's gay, or bi, and he doesn't know if this technically makes Stan his boyfriend. They don't talk about it with each other or anyone else, but they're clearly both curious and if Kyle is going to experiment with anyone he'd rather it be tentative experimenting with someone he feels comfortable with.

"Hey..."

"Hi..." Kyle replies, as he takes a seat next to Stan.

"Annie looked upset."

"Yeah, she's devastated. What the fuck is going on, Stan? How are we here again?"

Stan's cheeks puff out as he exhales, shaking his head.

"I have no idea, dude. I mean, I thought when Manbearpig didn't show up two years ago we were out of the woods."

"You really thinks it's Manbearpig?"

"What else could it be?"

"An actual person?"

Stan blinks, looks out over the sea of heads.

"Okay, that's even scarier to consider."

Kyle can hear the steps to the ancient bleachers creaking under heavy footsteps. A familiar shadow is draped over them.

"How's it going, assholes?" Cartman asks with a grin.

Kyle looks at him with narrowed eyes. His good looks have just made his usual lack of self-awareness seem more aloof, and Kyle can't decide which is more annoying.

"How do you think it's going, Cartman?" Stan snaps. "Another person we've known our whole lives was found dead."

Cartman scoffs, a crease in his brow.

"Come on, as if you're gonna miss Red," he says, unceremoniously plopping himself down next to Kyle. His shoulder is pressed right up against his and Kyle grimaces. "You barely talked to her."

"That's not the point, asshole..." Kyle mutters.

"No, the point is that Stan is addicted to feeling sorry for himself. If something sad or horrible doesn't happen directly to him he'll twist it around so he can justify throwing a pity party."

Stan looks at him, too blindsided by the comment to be truly furious.

"What the fuck?"

"It's called empathy, dick."

Cartman hums under his breath, as if what Kyle said was at all amusing.

"Whatever you say..." he says, raking his gaze over Kyle.

He's been doing that a lot lately, looking at him up and down like a python sizing up their prey. It sends uncomfortable shivers down his spine. He's also been doing this weird fake-flirting with him, which Kyle finds more offensive than the usual name-calling and Cartman's general intolerance. He knows he's only doing it to rub in that he's hot now. His stare always lingers after he makes some fake, flirtatious comment as if he's waiting for Kyle to bite. Normally he would, but he isn't going to rise to that shit.

Kyle winkles his nose.

"Ugh, just don't talk to me until this is over."

"Fine..." Cartman sighs, staring straight ahead.

The murmuring conversations fade into silence as Mr Mackey approaches the podium. Next to him is a wreath of creamy white roses, and Red's name is written in sparkling gold on the black sash. The wreath rests against a blown up print of her yearbook picture.

"Mmkay, thank you all for coming everyone. We're here today to mourn the loss of another one of our bright young students. Rebecca 'Red' Tucker..."

Kyle can hear tiny, sobbing peals and comforting whispers around him.

The assembly goes on, with Mr Mackey giving a nice eulogy though a lot of the sentiments Kyle notices are borrowed from Clyde's. It's depressingly inevitable, he supposes. Wendy gives a more powerful, personal tribute, and Kyle can hear knowing, forlorn chuckles from some of the girls, and more tears being shed. Wendy does a good job of keeping it together. Her eyes are a bit puffy, and she takes occasional, demure swipes of her bottom lids to keep her tears at bay. Her voice cracks when she shares small anecdotes about Red, and warbles with that typical Wendy ferocity when she goes on to say that the murders of Clyde and Red are endemic of a violent society that doesn't care about its young people. There's mild applause as she shuffles back to her friends.

"Thank you, Wendy, for that moving tribute," Mr Mackey says, stepping up to the podium once again. "I think a lot of us will remember Red for all those wonderful qualities you listed, and I'm sure a lot of us can empathise with what you're feeling, mmkay. If anybody ever wants to talk about their feelings, about Red, about Clyde, and everything that's going on right now, my door is always open. I know it's been a rough few weeks, mmkay. It's been scary, and sad, and it's hard to even contemplate why this is happening. But this will not go on forever. One day this will come to an end. Whoever took Clyde, and Red away from us will be caught. Red and Clyde will have justice. But we can't let this monster win."

Cartman tilts his head, leaning closer to Kyle with eyebrows raised.

"I think they've already won..."

Kyle whips his head around. His mouth draws into a thin, angry line. Sometimes he really can't fucking believe him...

"What did I say?" he whispers, voice taut. "I said don't talk to me. Just shut the fuck up."

The corners of Cartman's mouth droop, his bottom lip pooching. His eyes are wide and incredulous, like he didn't mean to say to something totally insensitive.

"Oops, sorry..." he chuckles.

"We have to remain hopeful, we have to look out for each other. But most importantly, we have to stay vigilant, mmkay. Remember the buddy system. Don't walk anywhere alone at night. Stick to well-lit, well-populated areas, mmkay. We will get through this as a community, and as a school. That's all."

The bell rings, and the murmuring conversation resumes as everyone rises and files out of the gym. Cartman yawns and stretches, not even covering his mouth and not even apologising for almost whacking Kyle in the head.

"Well, this has been fun, guys..." he says as he gets up. "See you at the next one, huh?"

Kyle whips his head around so fast he feels like it could fly from his neck. He has never wanted to punch Cartman more.

"What?!" he cries. "How the fuck can you say that?! You think this is funny?"

Cartman blinks, chuckling and raising his hands.

"Hey, Kyle, humour is my way of coping, okay?"

Kyle shakes his head, teeth gritted.

"No, it's not okay! People have died! Our friends have died! Are you that much of a fucking psychopath?!"

Conversation has hushed now, everyone's attention has turned elsewhere. Mainly, to him.

"Kyle..." Stan murmurs behind him.

"No! No, I won't let him talk like that, Stan!"

Cartman's grin broadens, goading but incredulous. He's emboldened now he has an audience.

"Oh-ho! You won't _let_ me?" he leans forward, sneering in Kyle's face. "This is a free country, Kyle. How are you gonna stop me from saying whatever the hell I want?"

Kyle is fuming, mouth scrunched up tight. His fists clench.

"I'm gonna kick your ass!"

Kyle tries to throw a punch, but Cartman dodges it and Kyle is being pulled back by Stan before he can do any damage.

"Kyle, no!" Stan says, tugging Kyle's arms and pulling him close. "Come on, dude, he's not worth it!"

Kyle is seething, shaking. He's furious, and embarrassed, but he tries to calm down when he feels Stan stroking his arm.

"It's alright," he whispers. His breath is warm behind Kyle's ear. "Come on, it's alright..."

Kyle closes his eyes, his breathing returning to normal. But when he opens his eyes, Cartman is still there and glowering at the both of them.

"Better get a tighter leash for your bitch, Stan..." he sneers, before he walks away.

Kyle ignores the confused, bewildered looks from his classmates, his eyes are trained on Cartman as he storms out of the gym.

* * *

Kyle hasn't been able to concentrate all day. Cartman's words are ringing in his ears, and his sneer, and goading, loathsome grin is burned into his brain. He should be used to Cartman treating everything like a joke, a game, a stick to prod Kyle with, but he's sick of it. If he can't bring himself to care, then can he at least have a little humility? A little common sense to shut the fuck up and think about other people's feelings for a change? Kyle supposes that's too much to ask, is impossible. Then again, so was Cartman's transformation from unappealing caterpillar into 'gorgeous' butterfly. But aesthetics are easy, changing who he is at his core is an entirely different matter.

Kyle's trying hard not to look at him right now, as they get changed for gym. He's a couple lockers down, casually chatting with Craig, Butters, and Kenny, standing there shirtless. Kyle remembers a time when Cartman kept quiet in the locker room, kept his head down, and changed quickly. He wouldn't say he misses it, but he preferred it to whatever peacocking shit he's pulling right now.

Kyle pulls his own shirt off, and reaches for the one he wears for gym.

"So, uh, do you wanna hang out at my place tonight?" Stan asks.

"Huh?" Kyle replies, as his head pops out of the neck hole. "Sure, sounds good. I can't stay long though."

Stan smiles, nodding.

"That's cool, I'll drive you home..." his brows furrow. "Are you okay?"

Kyle shrugs, prickly because apparently his irritation isn't as well-concealed as he thought.

"Yeah... why?"

"You've been weird since the assembly." Stan frowns, sighs. He leans in closer and murmurs, "don't let Cartman get to you."

It's such a tired piece of advice, Stan even sounds exhausted when he says it. Besides, Kyle doesn't think apathy is the solution.

"No, he is getting to me, Stan!" Kyle snaps. "I can't ignore him when he says horrible shit like that because then he'll think he can get away with it."

"That's just how he is, Kyle..."

And that excuse too. God, he hates it.

"Well, I'm not willing to accept that! I can't! Not when everyone is drooling all over him!"

Stan rolls his eyes.

"Dude, no matter how hot Cartman gets that doesn't change the fact that he's an asshole, and everybody knows that."

"Do they?! You know what Annie asked me earlier? She asked if I could set her up with Cartman! Does that sound like someone whose judgement isn't clouded?"

Stan blinks, his gaze wandering away from Kyle.

"No, but maybe she isn't thinking clearly because her friend just died."

"Possibly, but... making decisions based on grief - especially when that decision is to hook up with Cartman - is beyond bad, and I..." Kyle stops when he realises Stan's gaze has wandered away from him completely, to the direction of Cartman. "what the fuck, are you checking him out right now?!"

Stan blinks again, eyes wide and guilty.

"No! I just... dude, it's pretty incredible though," he says, craning his neck, more brazen with his staring now that he's been caught. "Like, how did he get so ripped so quickly?"

Kyle throws his arms out at his side, brow creased and eyes wide. This is the problem in a nutshell, Kyle thinks, Cartman's good looks distracting them from a real, necessary conversation.

"Who the fuck cares, Stan! That's not the point! The point is that he's brainwashing people!"

Kyle glares over his shoulder at Cartman. He still hasn't put his shirt on, his hands are on his hips, and he looks like an NFL fullback. Maybe the football genes finally kicked in? With a vengeance.

"Besides, he's hardly ripped," Kyle adds. "He still has a belly."

Cartman's eyes scan the locker room like a hawk and snag on Kyle. He grins, and it sets Kyle's face ablaze. The tips of his ears are burning and he rips his gaze away, hating that he's caught. He notices Cartman sauntering towards him out of the corner of his eye, but he's determined not to look at him. He starts rearranging his locker because he has nothing better to do. But the lockers are tiny and narrow, so he just ends up placing his normal clothes on top of his normal shoes and then repeating the process.

"Like what you see, huh, Kyle?"

Kyle glares at him, and his teeth graze his plump lower lip as he waits for a response.

"No!"

"Ha!" Cartman laughs, resting one hand on the locker next to him with a loud smack. "Don't be embarrassed. It's okay," he adds, doing that insufferable thing of raking his gaze over Kyle. "You're only human..."

Kyle scoffs.

"Which is more than I can say for you..."

Cartman snickers, leaning closer.

"You know, I wanna believe you, Kyle, but it's so hard to take you seriously when your face is this red..."

Cartman pokes his burning cheek, and Kyle slaps his hand away.

"Don't touch me..." he snarls.

Cartman just smirks, unaffected, with eyebrows raised.

"Whatever you say, Kyle..."

"Stop saying that! I mean it, don't fucking touch me! If I wanted you so much then I wouldn't have agreed to set you up with Annie, would I?"

It seems to stir Cartman. He blinks, a little dent appearing in his brow.

"Annie?"

"Yeah!" Kyle continues, figuring that maybe he should pick his battles. If Annie wants Cartman she can have him. Besides, it's too late to back out of his angry rant now and he should just roll with it. "She asked me this morning if I would talk to you for her. Personally, I think she's making the biggest mistake of her life, but I guess that's not my problem..."

"Really?"

"Yes," Kyle says, slamming his locker shut. He can't look at him anymore.

Cartman seems to think about this piece of information for a little while longer, before he inches closer to Kyle.

Kyle rolls his eyes at their proximity, especially when Cartman hasn't got the god damn decency to put a shirt on.

"Then you wouldn't mind if I talked to her?"

Kyle looks at him with a scowl.

"No, it's her funeral..."


	3. apex predator

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title for this chapter may or may not be inspired by the song 'Apex Predator' from the Mean Girls musical. I guess you're gonna just have to listen to it and decide for yourself. Anyway, placing a warning as usual for bloodiness. I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading! I'd love to know your thoughts!

_This night has dragged on longer than Eric would have liked, or hoped._

_Clyde and Red were clandestine hook-ups, kept secret because even though people had no problem drooling all over him in the halls or flirting with him when they had the chance, they still had trouble reconciling that it was Eric Cartman they wanted to hook up with. So they didn't tell even their closest friends where they were going. Eric didn't care, it worked better for him when Clyde and Red suddenly vanished, turned up bloody and mutilated in the middle of nowhere. But people are forgetting the person he once was, and have no problem telling their friends now that they're going out with him. Eric hopes this will work in his favour for Kyle, that he will be so blinded by Eric's good looks, and in time, his charm, that he will give him a chance. Then when he sees just how well Eric would treat him if he had the opportunity, Kyle would forgive his past misdeeds and love him for who he is now. It's a fulfilling enough fantasy for the time being, when he has to take Annie Nelson out instead._

_Because she made it common knowledge that she was interested in him - and because he had killed her friend only a few days ago - Eric couldn't just drive her out to the woods, make out with her a little bit, and then eat her. He had to take her out to a movie first, let her pretend this was a date. At least the movie gave him a good excuse not to make conversation. He's still pissed that he had to pay for the tickets, as well as the popcorn, drinks, and candy which he did not eat. He does miss normal food, especially of the sweet variety, but it tastes so bland to him now. At least the cover of movie theatre darkness hid the fact that he was not interested in any of the confectionary he bought. Annie was happy to hog the popcorn, and Eric gnawed on the same strawberry twizzler for the duration of the movie, shoving it between the seats when the lights came up._

_Taking Annie out to the woods seemed like a bad idea too because of Red, but she's so desperate for company and comfort that she lets him take her all the way to the old Denkins' barn that's a 30 minute drive from town. As far as remote, isolated places go, it's the perfect location but Eric just wants to get this over with. They pull up outside the ancient, abandoned barn and Annie stares at it warily, but she releases her folded arm to let Eric guide her inside._

_The barn is oppressively dark, but with his improved vision Eric can see the outlines of rusty farm equipment and the piles of haystacks. Annie can't, and she grips his hand tight as she stumbles behind him._

_"Are we even supposed to be here?" she asks. "Are we trespassing?"_

_"It's fine. No one has owned this place since Mr Denkins' great-great-grandpa."_

_"But are we safe? With everything that's going on?"_

_Eric smirks._

_"What, you afraid Manbearpig is gonna gobble you up?"_

_"A little..." Annie replies humourlessly._

_Eric rolls his eyes, turning around and releasing her hand, but wrapping his arms around her waist just as fast, pulling her closer. He grins, even if she can't see it, and lifts her off the floor. It's only a couple of inches, but she still shrieks and giggles._

_"Well, if Manbearpig starts sniffing around here for you, they'll have to go through me first."_

_She's still giggling, fingers clawing into his arms._

_"Eric! Put me down!"_

_Eric ignores her, throwing her over his shoulder instead. He's watched enough romcoms to know girls love that shit._

_"Oh my god, what the hell are you doing?" she asks, laughing hysterically and feebly punching his back._

_Eric heads towards the only faint light source in the barn._

_"This is what I wanted to show you."_

_Eric sets Annie down on the ground, and they're illuminated by moonlight._

_"Sit," he says, pointing to the rotten haystacks._

_"On that?" Annie wrinkles her nose. "No way, it's gross."_

_Eric sighs, peeling his jacket off and draping it over the haystacks._

_"That better?"_

_Annie lowers her chin, a small smile on her face._

_"Yeah, thanks. "_

_She perches on the haystack, and Eric joins her. When he lies down she does too and they're both looking up at the gaping hole in the roof. The cobalt sky twinkles with stars, and Eric can see the moon trying to peek its head into the old barn._

_"Wow..." Annie gasps, tilting her head towards Eric. "It's beautiful..."_

_"I know..."_

_"How did you even think to come here?"_

_Eric discovered this place and the hole in the roof when he was thirteen. He came here with the guys, and their plan was to stay in the (what they thought was) haunted barn over night. They made it 'til about midnight and freaked each other out so much that they ran to Tegridy Farms, not too far away. He remembers shoving Kenny, and teasing Stan, and arguing with Kyle over the existence of ghosts. He remembers his lungs stinging and feeling like he was practically flying as he sprinted to Stan's house, lagging behind the other guys but he still had never ran faster. He remembers feeling dizzy and relieved when they arrived at Tegridy Farms, greeted by Mrs Marsh who helped them set up their sleeping bags in the living room. He remembers the warm house, and the odd, comforting combination of weed stench and hot chocolate. But most of all, he remembers Kyle's voice echoing in the darkness, his body curled up in a sleeping bag, the glow of the TV on his face as they stayed up all night playing Xbox, and of course, his face lit by starlight as they huddled around the gaping hole in the roof, as he tried to name all the constellations. Eric had pretended he wasn't interested, but he was enthralled. When he finally realised that he loved Kyle, that he wanted him, that they were meant to be together, he vowed he would bring Kyle up here. They would lie on the haystacks with their fingers intertwined, and he would ask Kyle to point out the constellations again._

_It was perfect, and he wouldn't sully the story, his fantasy, by sharing it with Annie. He's sour that she's beside him right now, instead of Kyle. He hates the fact that she used Kyle to get a date with him. As far as Eric has concerned, she's tainted his fantasy. Good thing he has more than fitting revenge planned. He tries to think of some pretentious bullshit that will pacify her._

_"Sometimes I like to just go on drives by myself. When I can't sleep, or when I have a lot on my mind. I was driving for ages one night and came across this barn. When I saw the hole in the roof and the stars, it felt like... finding a portal to heaven. Like, we're so small but there's someone bigger out there looking down at us, acknowledging our existence."_

_Annie nods._

_"That's so deep."_

_"Yeah, and I wasn't even stoned."_

_Eric hears the rustling of hay, and when he glances at Annie she's lying on her side, her hand tucked under her head. She's looking at him with enamoured, shiny eyes._

_"I had no idea you were so sensitive."_

_"There's a lot of things people don't know about me, Annie. To be honest, I feel like I've been overlooked for a long time."_

_Annie frowns, shaking her head._

_"I'm so sorry. All these years I had written you off as an intolerant asshole but... there's so much more to you."_

_Eric blinks, brows furrowing when she kisses him suddenly._

_"You're so sweet," she murmurs against his lips. She kisses him again. "And kind..."_

_Eric reminds himself to kiss back, applying a little more pressure and keeping his lips pressed to hers a little longer. He sighs sweetly when they part._

_"And I just thought you were boring and stuck-up..."_

_Annie pulls back, brows knitted._

_"What was that?"_

_Eric shakes his head._

_"Nothing..."_

_He climbs on top of her and smashes their lips together before she can say anything more. Eric has sampled kisses from both boys and girls lately, and even if none of them were particularly mind-melting or hot, he can say with some confidence that he likes kissing boys better. Clyde had his off-putting quirks, but feeling his stocky body and prominent bulge underneath him was decidedly more appealing than boobs, and hips. Still, he tries to match Annie's enthusiastic swipes of tongue and lip locks. He even slips a hand under her shirt, finding her boob and groping her through her bra. She arches at the initial, rough squeeze._

_"Eric!" she whines at the subsequent caresses and his thumb brushing against her hard nipple._

_With her head tipped back, Eric pecks the corner of her mouth, and then her jaw. He backs away, frowning when she sits up. Her lips are parted and her eyes are hazy as she reaches behind her and unfastens her bra. She discards it on the ground, and Eric notices her nipples are straining against her shirt. His preoccupation must embolden her, because she bites her lip and leans forward, reaching for his zipper._

_His resentment for her is still growing, and he doesn't want her anywhere near his dick. He grabs her wrists, and her fingers seem to wither in his grip._

_"No, don't..."_

_Annie pouts._

_"Why not?"_

_Eric can't think of some excuse that will keep up the ruse, so he figures he should be honest._

_"Because I don't want you to touch me."_

_Annie blinks. Eric can practically see the sting of rejection written across her face and it's very satisfying._

_"Okay... then what do you want me to do?"_

_Eric just wants to get on with it now. He wants to see bare, unmarked skin just waiting to be torn apart._

_"I want you to take your shirt off."_

_Annie blinks again, but a smile soon spreads across her face. She lifts her shirt over her head, discarding it on the ground with her bra. She's sitting up now, resting on her flat palms. When Eric doesn't say anything, she looks down at her bare chest._

_"Is this... am I..." she looks up at Eric, unsure. "Do I look okay?"_

_"Yeah, you look..." Eric rakes his gaze over her as he tries to find the appropriate word. "So hot."_

_It's the best he can come up with, but Annie seems delighted. She ducks her chin again, biting her lip to control her smile._

_"Really?"_

_"Uh-huh." Eric nods. "You know what would look even sexier? If you lay back, and put your arms above your head."_

_Annie giggles, complying with Eric's instruction. He watches her skin and tendons stretch, outline of bone and muscle appearing like lines on an animated sketch. Eric grins. He feels a pang in his stomach, but its soothed by the knowledge his hunger is about to be sated._

_"That's better. You want some music?"_

_Annie nods, leaning into her compliant, submissive role._

_Eric reaches into his pocket, pulling out his phone and playing 'I Swear.' The acoustics in the barn are not as good as his truck when he can connect it to the radio. Now, it's just playing on his phone, in his pocket, quiet and slightly muffled but Eric doesn't think it'll make too much of a difference. His mouth starts to water nonetheless as he stares at Annie's chest. It's not the rise and fall, or the xylophone outline of her ribs that is so tantalising, but the faint line of her sternum that starts at her cleavage and ends at the hollow of her ribcage. It separates her breasts, and her lungs, and Eric has visions of ripping it apart, cracking Annie open to reveal her bloody, chewy, organs, delicious nonetheless. He runs a finger down that line, and her skin prickles. He feels her shiver._

_He sits up, so he's on his knees, and grabs her thighs. His fingers dig into the denim as he tugs her closer. She gives out a small yelp, and her legs are spread between Eric's hips, her calves dangling in mid air. How does he want to do this? Does he want to bite into her jugular like he did with Clyde? He's not in the right position to sink his fangs deep into her shoulder like he did with Red. Besides, his fangs haven't even come through yet. He decides to have some fun while he waits, vent his frustration a little._

_"Eric?" Annie asks, arching an eyebrow. She waves. "Hello?"_

_Eric scowls, and lunges forward. He grasps both her wrists with one hand and pins them above her head. He has to smother a laugh at her sharp gasp, and her eyes flying wide open. He still grins maniacally though._

_"Yes, Annie? What is it?"_

_She's shaking, eyes glued to him._

_"N-n-nothing, you just seemed a little spaced out."_

_Eric frowns._

_"Spaced out? No, I was just thinking how... gorgeous... you look right now."_

_A smile trembles across Annie's face, and she bats her lashes._

_"I do?"_

_Eric hates that annoying, coy crap and he can't tolerate it any longer._

_"Yes, you do," he snaps. "Stop asking me that."_

_Annie scowls, shifts her body a little._

_"Jeez, okay, sorry..."_

_Eric kisses her hard, and doesn't stop until their noses are smushed together and he's practically burying her skull in the hay. Her breath is hitched, her chest heaving, when he finally releases her, and he peppers kisses on her chin, neck, and chest. He kisses his way down her sternum, blindly playing with one nipple, before kissing the underside of her opposite breast. Annie's skin is soft beneath his lips and it feels kind of nice, but he knows it would feel even nicer to tear into it._

_"Oh..." she moans breathlessly, writhing beneath him. "Oh, Eric... aaah- ow!" she yelps, when Eric bites her. "That hurt!"_

_"Sorry..." he murmurs. His fangs still haven't come in yet, but he wants to see how much damage he can do with his regular teeth. He's probably broken a few blood vessels. He can see the indentions of his teeth._

_From this angle, it looks like her hard nipples are pointing skywards, and he shifts to take one in his mouth. He sucks it gently while rolling the other between his fingers._

_"Is that better?" he murmurs to the sensitive skin._

_He continues sucking before Annie can respond. She gasps, and wiggles about some more._

_"Yeah..." she whispers._

_He keeps that up for a little bit, before releasing her again and nipping the exact same spot where he bit her before. She giggles this time._

_"You've probably bruised me..."_

_"No one is gonna see it..." he replies, groping her boob and kissing her ribs._

_"Yeah, I guess, that's true." She sighs. "Only you..."_

_"Sure, only me..." Eric says, rolling his eyes. The song is reaching its crescendo, and he feels that familiar ache in his gums. He smiles against her skin. "Pretty weird, Kyle setting us up, huh?"_

_"What..." Annie whispers, hazy and distracted. "Oh, I don't know. I didn't think it was weird."_

_"You didn't? You could've just messaged me yourself." Eric's voice is hard. "He's not my fucking handler."_

_"No, I know," Annie says, soft and apologetic. "We were just talking and your name came up-"_

_"How? How did my name come up exactly?"_

_"Eric, it was nothing! I was sad about Red, and he said if there was anything he could do for me, to let him know and... I thought asking him if you could talk to me would be a simple favour-"_

_Eric squeezes her wrists so hard that he can feel her bones creak. She whimpers._

_"No, Annie, it's being manipulative, because you knew that Kyle couldn't refuse you." Eric snarls, stares at her face contorted with pain and confusion. "Who the fuck would refuse a favour to someone who's grieving? No one. Especially not Kyle. He still thinks chivalry is a thing and helping out a crying girl is a guaranteed boost to his ego."_

_"What the fuck? Why are we even talking about Kyle?!" Annie snaps. "I'm sorry if I offended you by talking to him but - aahh, Eric, stop!"_

_She throws her head back and cries out when Eric twists her nipple almost hard enough to rip it off. She's whimpering, and Eric can tell she's crying._

_"I'm not offended, Annie," Eric says through gritted teeth. "I just think you're pathetic. Next time you like a guy grow a pair and talk to him yourself."_

_Like the others, Annie starts flailing, kicking madly in an attempt to escape._

_"Let me go, you fucking psycho!"_

_Eric isn't fazed. He just drag his fangs across her soft skin, heading for the hollow of her ribcage._

_"What the - oh my god, are those your teeth?!"_

_Eric lifts his head, looks up at Annie's snivelling, terrified face and nods, baring his fangs._

_She gasps, shuddering and choking on tears._

_"Oh my god... it was you... you're the one who..." her face crumples with devastated realisation and she sobs some more, thrashing about. "Eric, I'm sorry! Please! Please don't hurt me! I'll do whatever you want! I'll apologise to Kyle for asking him that favour! A-a-and I'll never talk to him again! I'll do whatever you want, just please don't do this!"_

_Eric grins._

_"Oh, Annie..."_

_He sinks his fangs into her skin and she screams, back arching. Blood spurts onto his tongue immediately, splatters onto his face and he rips a chunk of her flesh away. Flesh is definitely the best part. Tender, and tasty, and incredible. He smacks his lips as he chews, and then gulps it down._

_"I only want one thing from you..."_

_He sinks his teeth into her torso again, blood travelling in sinuous little roads across her chest, soaking the hay below. She howls as he eats her alive._

* * *

When Kyle and the rest of the guys file out of Stan's car and into the parking lot that Monday, it looks like the school has been invaded by weepy, devastated zombies. People are wandering around aimlessly, clutching tissues to their chests, others are sobbing on benches and the steps leading up to the main entrance of the school, and some people are just frozen with grief, crying either alone or in their friends' shuddering embraces. It's become a familiar scene, but like a reoccurring nightmare it makes Kyle's stomach lurch and his head whir, powerless to stop it.

He walks through the parking lot with Stan, Kenny, and Cartman, and just like any group in a zombie movie trying to avoid getting infected, they stay close together and tread carefully, practically wading through the mourners.

"What's with the tears?" Cartman asks.

"It couldn't have happened again, right?" Stan adds, and he sounds genuinely surprised. Kyle wishes he was still even that tiny bit hopeful.

He spots Wendy at the main doors, her hand on the shoulder of a girl in the grade below. She's nodding as the girl weeps, keeping her own tears at bay.

"Hey, Wendy!" Kyle says, jogging up the steps.

The younger girl slips away from Wendy, but Wendy gives her shoulder a supportive, parting squeeze.

"Are you okay?" Kyle asks. The guys are close behind him. "What's going on?"

Wendy's brow wrinkles, and she frowns. Her eyes are pink, and there's a wetness around her nose.

"What do you-" her face falls. "Shit... please tell me you guys have heard."

"What?" Kyle can't help but snap. "Heard what?"

"Annie, Kyle!" Wendy cries, her voice cracking. "They found her in the old Denkins' place! That fucking monster did it again!"

Kyle knows it was coming, but it still hits hard. It's like a punch to his stomach that sends all his fear, and anger, and despair soaring into his throat. How long will this go on for? Are they all going to become victim to this soon? And who's next? Is their entire grade just going to disappear? Kyle wants to ask all these questions. His mouth twitches, and his lips part, but no sound will come out.

"Oh my god..." Stan whispers beside him, running a hand over his face.

"Fuck, man..." Kenny echoes.

Not the most eloquent words of condolence, Kyle thinks, but what else can they say? He frowns, face creasing.

"Wendy, I'm so sorry."

"Thanks," Wendy replies with a small, rueful smile. It's depressing how used to this she is now. First Red, and now Annie's death has just added more time to her grieving clock. "I wanna say it's okay, but it's really not." Her face crumples up, and her eyes sparkle with fresh tears. "I feel like nothing is gonna be okay anymore."

Kyle sighs.

"I know, I know..."

Wendy sniffles, wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.

"Cartman, did you see anything?" she asks. "Anyone? It happened the night you guys went out."

That eerie reminder makes Kyle shiver and turns to look at Cartman. He's shaking his head. He shrugs.

"No, I dropped her home and that was the last I saw of her."

Wendy sighs, frowning.

"It doesn't make any sense. How did she end up in the Denkins place..."

"Because she was dumped there, Wendy," Cartman replies, in this impatient, matter-of-fact voice. "You think people who get killed by serial killers are just hanging out in their dingy basements, or at the bottom of rivers, or in the middle of the woods just waiting for some creep to kill them? No, that's just where they end up. Believing otherwise is just naive, and honestly kinda victim-blaming."

A bristling silence follows, full of the angry words Kyle's gonna curse Cartman out with when Wendy leaves.

"Well, excuse me for not thinking clearly, Cartman, when another one of my friends has died," she snaps.

"Wendy, I'm really sorry..."

"Why are you apologising, Stan?" she asks, narrowing her eyes at him. "Listen, I have to go. I'm planning _another_ memorial service. See you, guys."

"Yeah, see you, Wendy..." Kyle replies, after Wendy had already turned around. He watches her walk away before he turns to face Cartman fully. "What the fuck was that?"

"That was me being honest and helpful, Kyle. If Wendy thinks that Annie was just hanging out in a dilapidated barn, minding her own business before she was killed then she really has a lot to learn about murder. I was just helping her piece together the night, since she seemed so interested."

Kyle doesn't even know where to begin with how stupid, obnoxious, antagonistic, and generally unhelpful that actually. He feels his body shaking with effervescent rage.

"God, do you hear yourself?!" he cries, his voice reaching a scratchy, outraged pitch. "That was not helpful at all! Do you even care about any of this? Does it matter to you at all? Annie was killed the night you went out with her! Doesn't that make you..." he's in danger of forgetting the rest of his sentence when he's stuck on the one before it. His eyes widen, his heart is pounding, and he feels like his stomach is either about to fall out of his ass or leap out of his mouth. "Doesn't that make... you... oh my god..."

He thinks of what Cartman said at the memorial service for Red, what he whispered in his ear.

_I think they've already won._

It makes his heart, stomach, his whole body clench. His friends are looking at him with varying degrees of confusion and concern. Cartman's brow is furrowed.

"Doesn't that make me what?"

"No..." Kyle whispers, trying to deny what his brain is screaming at him but he can't. He brings a shaking hand to his mouth. He can't stop staring at Cartman. "No, no, no..."

"Kyle?" Stan asks, stepping closer.

Kyle instinctively backs away because he feels like he's gonna vomit. If Cartman says one more thing, or if he looks him in the eye one more time he may very well throw up. He can't be here. He can't be around him right now, maybe ever again.

"I... I gotta go..."

The words are barely out of Kyle's mouth before he rushes off, throwing open the double doors and marching down the hallway.

He hears Stan call his name, he hears hurried footsteps behind him but he doesn't acknowledge either. He can hear Stan shouting 'what the hell did you do, Cartman?' and Cartman replying 'Jesus, Stan, how the fuck should I know?'

Kyle just needs to get to the bathroom. He can feel the vomit rising, feel the bile burning his throat. He's retching by the time he reaches the bathroom, but he's glad he makes it to an empty stall before he throws up, splattering his breakfast all over the toilet bowl. He hears Stan and Kenny behind him, and is glad to know that Cartman hasn't followed them.

"Kyle!" Stan says, kneeling beside him and rubbing his back as Kyle retches and heaves a little more. "It's okay... it's okay, just let it out..."

Kyle is panting by the time he's finished, shivering under Stan's palm, and reeling with what his brain has forced him to consider. It all makes sense. Horrifying, perfect sense. Kyle has felt so uneasy around Cartman lately, and this had to be it, this had to be why.

"Dude, Kyle, what the hell?" Kenny asks, hanging by the stall door.

"Do you need to go home?"

Kyle shakes his head, spitting into the toilet.

"No... no, I don't need to go home." He turns around, and Stan removes his hand from his back. They're both looking at him with wide, intrigued eyes like they're waiting for a huge bombshell to be dropped. "Guys, it's Cartman..."

The fascination dims in their eyes a little then, replaced by mild confusion. Kyle has to say he's a bit disappointed. Kenny and Stan look to each other for answers.

"Huh?"

"What's Cartman?" Stan asks.

"The killer! The killer is..." Kyle peeks under the stall to see if anyone is eavesdropping. The coast is clear, but still he whispers, "the killer is Cartman!"

Stan backs away, regarding him warily.

"Dude, that's a pretty big accusation."

"He went out with Annie the night she died! Doesn't that mean something?"

"So you're basing this on something that could be entirely coincidence?" Kenny asks, arching an eyebrow with arms folded.

Stan nods.

"Yeah, dude, Cartman is evil but he's not cannibalistic serial killer evil."

"Is he? Do we really know who he is anymore? Out of nowhere he gets in shape, and becomes somewhat appealing, without any of us knowing that he was dieting or exercising! And at the exact same time all these murders happen! And everyone assumes it's Manbearpig, but there have been no sightings! And it's not just random people, it's people we know! People Cartman knows, and has grown up with! And then the night he goes out with Annie, she goes missing! It has to mean something!"

Kenny's gaze wanders away as he nods, but Stan just huffs.

"But it doesn't mean he's..." he shakes his head, and looks to the ceiling for the rest of his sentence. "The love child of Ted Bundy and Hannibal Lecter!" he sighs, resting a hand on Kyle's shoulder. "Look, Kyle you have got to get over this Cartman thing, alright?"

Kyle's face falls. It's not unusual for Stan to disagree with him, but it's always a tad jarring when he does. Besides, this is such a huge revelation that's Stan's dismissal of it stings, especially when he's turning it into another matter entirely.

"What..." he shrugs away from Stan's grip. "What are you talking about? What Cartman thing?"

As soon as the affronted words come out of his mouth he starts to feel his face get hotter.

Stan huffs again, rolling his eyes. His cheeks are tinged red.

"Kyle, it's all I've been hearing for a week! Yeah, I agree, it's weird that he got in shape so quickly, but it's not a bad thing! It's not a dangerous thing that Cartman is taking care of himself now! It's just annoying, and I get that him suddenly being hot might be uncomfortable for you but there's nothing you can do about it! So why don't you just back off and give it a rest!"

Stan gets to his feet and storms off before Kyle can even argue, which is just bad fight etiquette. When he brushes past Kenny, he gives Kyle a surprised, amused look that says, 'I don't know what the fuck that was about either.'

Kyle acknowledges it with a grimace, scrambling to his feet and brushing past Kenny too to get the last word in.

"Uncomfortable?!" Kyle yells, just as Stan slips out the door. "Stan! Stan, why the hell would it be uncomfortable for me? More like it's uncomfortable for you! Face it, he might have done it!"

Kyle is seething, and when he meets Kenny's eyes he's embarrassed by those impotent words he just yelled. He backs away, stumbling into the wall and it shudders with a reverberating clang.

Kenny doesn't seem at all fazed by Stan and Kyle's first fight as super best friends with benefits.

"Do you want a tissue?" he asks, and taps his chin.

Kyle's brow furrows, and he's even more embarrassed when he realises it's wet with saliva and possibly vomit. He nods.

Kenny rips off a piece of toilet paper and hands it to Kyle.

"Thanks..." he says, dabbing his chin with the toilet paper before throwing it in the toilet. He flushes it. "God, Kenny, do you at least understand where I'm coming from?"

Kenny nods.

"Yeah, I do..."

Kyle blinks, delighted.

"Really?"

"Uh-huh, and I think I know - if he is the killer - why he's doing it."

"What?" Kyle gasps, stepping closer. "Tell me!"

"He's possessed," Kenny replies matter-of-factly.

Kyle deflates. His eyelids droop and his mouth clamps shut into an exasperated frown.

"What."

"He's possessed!" Kenny repeats, undeterred. "He could be a vessel for some dark, supernatural force!"

Kyle sighs, rolls his eyes.

"Kenny, what the fuck are you talking about?" he mutters, shoving past him to wash his hands.

Kenny follows him, and elaborates on his theory.

"Hear me out! His... 'transformation'... or whatever you wanna call it, was too drastic to be natural, right? There was nothing gradual about it, and for the first day or two he didn't even acknowledge it! Why? Because he knew it would lead to uncomfortable questions! You know, who the hell is gonna believe that the occult got him jacked? And then the murders start happening. Maybe Cartman doesn't even wanna do these things, but the demon inside him makes him do it! For, I don't know, compensation, or sustenance, or just because it's a fucking demon and they just do whatever they want!"

Kyle turns off the faucet, looking over his shoulder at an exhilarated Kenny.

"Kenny, that is insane," he says. He wishes he had more notes for him, but that's basically it. It's fucking insane.

"Kyle, need I remind you, this is South Park. Why is it plausible that one omnipotent demon could be responsible for killing people, and implausible that another equally powerful demon has possessed our friend, and could be responsible instead?"

Kyle grabs a paper towel, but as he dries his hands he begins to ruminate on the insanity. Is Cartman being possessed by a demon anymore insane than him just suddenly getting hot and deciding he's gonna go all _American Psycho_ on everyone? Kyle suddenly has an image of Cartman standing in front of his bathroom mirror peeling off a face mask and the unsettling thought makes him nauseous again.

Kenny's theory at least offers a reason, and some kind of motive no matter how crazy. If Manbearpig can terrorise South Park then is it really such a stretch to believe that another demon could take his place? Besides, it's all they've got to work with right now. Kyle decides not to dismiss this out of hand, and roll with Kenny's idea for as long as he can. He sighs, and dunks the crumpled up paper towel into the trashcan.

"Okay, but how do we even go about proving that theory?" he asks.

Kenny grins. It must be nice having one of his ideas be entertained. It's pretty rare.

"It's not gonna be easy," he admits. "But I have a good idea where to start."

* * *

After school, Kenny takes Kyle to a house that is vaguely familiar but that he's sure he has never stepped foot in. Kenny, however, strides up to the front door and knocks like he's been here a thousand times. He and Kenny don't spend a whole lot of alone time together admittedly, but the thought of him, Stan, or even Cartman having friendships separate from their little group of four (and five if you included Butters, who Kyle had to constantly remind himself of even though they had been hanging out since elementary school) is disconcerting. Other kids seem not to like them, and it's their pariah status as a group that unites them. Kyle thinks its normal to feel unsettled when that belief is called into question, but he doesn't think Kenny would see it quite the same way. Mrs Biggle soon answers the door.

"Oh, hello, Kenny!" she beams. "Hello, Kyle!"

Kyle offers her a weak smile. He still feels uneasy about the time she tried to bribe him with a Star Wars game so he would steal his mom's shit.

He often thinks they should all as a collective talk about the traumatising, inappropriate crap the adults in their lives put them through, because stuff like that definitely festers.

"Hi, Mrs Biggle," Kenny replies. "Is Henrietta home?"

"Ooh, yes, she's upstairs with the boys! Come in!"

She stands aside to let them in, and as she leads them up the stairs Kyle studies the family photos that feature a sullen Henrietta, and Bradley frozen in time.

"I haven't seen you around so much lately, sweetie," Mrs Biggle says to Kenny.

Kyle wrinkles his nose at the fond, familiar pet name but isn't exactly surprised. Moms love Kenny. Maybe it's his easygoing, rapscallion charm and skinny, undernourished frame that make him irresistible.

"Oh, you know how busy school can get..."

Mrs Biggle nods.

"Of course!" her hands are clasped in front of her and she starts twisting the rings around her fingers. "Well, I imagine it is. You know, Bradley is still on K'oh Kajun and Henrietta keeps to herself. It makes me wonder how she's so popular!" she chuckles.

She knocks on Henrietta's bedroom door, but opens it before Henrietta can even answer. Kyle chokes immediately on the stale, opaque cigarette smoke in the air, the open windows doing nothing to remedy it. There's disembodied sombre music playing, and if the smell of the smoke in the air wasn't decidedly tobacco Kyle would assume they're all stoned. Or maybe they all got stoned before they got here. Pete and Firkle are lounging on Henrietta's unmade bed. Pete has his arm thrown over his eyes like even just the sunlight streaming through the window is too hot and stifling for him, and Firkle is hunched over lighting another cigarette, one leg tucked under another that's dangling off the bed. Michael is sitting on the carpet, leaning against the bedpost with legs spread and eyes lidded, and Henrietta is sat next to him. She's sat cross-legged, draped in shapeless, black clothes. She's smoking a cigarette from a pretentious cigarette holder, but she looks like she should be smoking a hookah. In fact, Kyle wonders why they don't all smoke from a hookah. It would be a more communal, and sociable gathering than it is now.

"Henrietta!" Mrs Biggle trills. "Some more friends have come to see you, my dark little princess!"

Henrietta huffs.

"Fuck off with that infantilising shit, mom, I'm seventeen- oh..." she pauses mid-rant to wave some smoke away from her face. "Hi, Kenny."

"Hey, Hen." Kenny nods. "Guys."

"I'll just leave you kids to chit-chat."

Kenny turns to Mrs Biggle with one last grin of acknowledgement.

"Thanks, Mrs B."

"It's nice to see you, Mrs Biggle." It's a lie, but Kyle figures he should be polite. Plus, he feels bad for her. It must not be easy having your kid leave to become a superhero, abandoning you with the kid who despises you.

Besides, it's worth it when she nods at him appreciatively.

"Nice to see you too, Kyle."

Kyle shuffles into the room behind Kenny, and Mrs Biggle clicks the door shut behind him.

Firkle tilts his head in his direction.

"Who's the poser?"

"Dude, what? I've known you since you were in kindergarten!" Kyle replies, incredulous. He points at his face. "Kyle? Broflovski?"

Firkle's brow furrowed as he regards him.

"Ike's brother?"

Kyle sighs.

"Yes."

Michael cranes his neck to talk to Firkle.

"Is he cool?"

Kyle scoffs in disbelief. How is this happening? He knows all of their names and they go out of their way to not associate with anybody! How could they not know Kyle? He plays basketball, and is on Debate team, he hung out with a talking Christmas poo, for fuck's sake! How do they not remember him?

"You know me too!"

Michael ignores him.

" _Is he cool, Firkle?"_

Firkle shrugs.

"Cool by association."

Kenny's eyes light up, and he places a hand to his chest.

"Because of me?"

"No, because of his brother. He made me a fake ID so I could buy my own cigarettes."

"How does anybody buy that you're eighteen?" Kenny asks, crossing his arms. "Even for a twelve year old you're a midget."

Firkle takes a drag, but doesn't seem offended.

"I tell them I have a rare bone condition."

Kyle arches an eyebrow.

"And that works?"

Firkle narrows his eyes and smiles meanly at him. Have little kids always had this much snark or is Kyle just getting old? He can't believe he's having these thoughts at the ripe, old age of seventeen.

"Yeah, when you have a sweet, totally realistic looking fake ID."

Kenny leans in closer to Kyle.

"Damn, your brother is pretty cool, dude."

Kyle turns away from Firkle and Pete.

"I feel I like have to talk to him about this when I get home though..."

"Before you nark on him, can he make me one first?"

"Hey, don't nark!" Firkle snaps.

"I'm not gonna nark! You shouldn't eavesdrop!"

Firkle just rolls his eyes, crashing onto the bed and crossing one leg over the other.

"Why don't you cut to the chase and tell us what it is that you want?" Pete asks, bored. He peeks out from under his arm. "You only ever come here when you want something from us..."

Kenny looks struck by the accusation.

"That is not true! Hen?"

Henrietta sighs, and smoke billows out of her nostrils like a dragon.

"It is kinda true. I'm fully aware that you use us, and I would respect you a lot more if you conceded that point."

Kenny huffs, roll his eyes.

"Fine, I guess I use you guys a little, but..." he winces, and frowns at Henrietta. "I don't mean to. This is the first I'm hearing about it."

Henrietta smiles, small and wry.

"Great, glad that's out in the open. Take a seat and tell me what is you need."

Kenny just drops to the floor immediately, sitting with his legs tucked under each other. Kyle is still at a loss as to what they came here for, so figures it's best to just follow Kenny's lead.

"We need information," Kenny says, like they're small-time gangsters trying to negotiate with a mafia Don. "About demons."

Henrietta's eyes flit between the both of them, slow and calculated. It's almost reptilian.

"I suppose this has to do with the recent killings?"

"Yes..." Kyle says, and it comes out quite breathless. His gut instinct is screaming at him that Cartman could be the killer, but the realisation still packs a punch.

"You guys aren't gonna try to stop Manbearpig again, are you?" Michael asks.

"Yeah, you fucked that up the first time," Pete adds.

Kenny shakes his head before Kyle can argue.

"We don't believe it's Manbearpig. We think it's someone..." Kenny shares an uncomfortable, tentative look with Kyle. "Closer to home."

"Damien?" Henrietta asks.

Kyle frowns at this name plucked from thin air. Who the hell is that?

Kenny blinks, even reels a little.

"Shit, you know, I hadn't even considered that," he whispers.

"Damien?" Kyle asks, looking between Kenny and Henrietta. "Who's Damien?"

Henrietta shakes her head, ignoring Kyle completely.

"Come to think of it, doesn't seem like his MO. He could have someone doing his dirty work for him though? A minion of sorts..."

"Who the fuck is Damien?!" Kyle cries with his arms outstretched when it seems like no one is gonna answer him.

"The anti-christ!" Pete snaps.

Kyle blinks, looks down at his lap as he tries to decode Pete's answer.

"Like... the movie? _The Omen?"_

Firkle barks a croaky, obnoxious laugh.

"Jesus, Kenny, where do you find these people?"

Kyle scowls at him. No way is he gonna let some chain-smoking, albino twelve year old talk about him like that.

"I've been friends with Kenny my whole life, and I'm getting pretty fucking sick of you, you little twerp!"

"Kyle, calm down!" Kenny says, grabbing his arm.

Kyle rips his arm from his grip.

"Look, we don't think it's Damien - whoever he is - we already have a suspect, we just wanna know if there's anything supernatural going on!"

"Is this kind of thing normal for someone who's been possessed? You know, the whole murder spree?"

"Extremely," Henrietta replies, rising, and Kyle has to blink a couple of times because it seriously looked like she just levitated. She goes to her bookcase, pulling out a black, dog-eared tome. She plops it on the carpet in front of Kyle and Kenny, and Kyle wants to sneeze immediately when dust crawls into his nose.

The pages smell old and mouldy as she flicks through them, knowing exactly when to stop. She begins to read.

"'Characteristics of a person possessed by a demon or the devil himself include double-jointedness, extreme strength, violent tendencies, and homicidal or self-destructive behaviours.'"

"Holy shit... " Kyle whispers, that breathless feeling returning to him with every word Henrietta reads.

Kenny shrugs.

"It checks out."

Henrietta is reading to herself now, following the faded text with her finger.

"Oh, and it can cause personality change too."

"Yeah, no shit," Michael pipes up, taking a drag.

"But Cartman's personality hasn't changed that much, has it?" Kyle asks, looking to Kenny. "If anything this has just made him more of an asshole."

Pete sits up.

"You guys think Cartman has been possessed and is murdering people?"

Kyle freezes. He didn't even think he had spoken that loud, thought nothing of it when Cartman's name passed his lips.

"That doesn't leave this bedroom, okay?" Kenny says, pointing a warning finger.

"Everything is strictly confidential here," Henrietta replies, and it sounds like she's said it before. Kyle is really intrigued by what goes on here when Kenny visits.

But he's more intrigued by any potential link between Cartman's good looks and the killings. Could a demon possession be what binds them together?

"Does it say anything about looks?" he asks, shuffling closer to the book. "Like, can a demonic possession change someone's appearance?"

Henrietta nods, glancing at the book.

"Yeah, it can make your pupils contract, it can make you paler, cause you to grow fangs and claws-"

"But can it make you..." Kyle rolls his eyes and hunches his shoulders as he gears himself up for what he is about to say. "Hot?"

Henreitta's chin is lowered, but Kyle can see the small smile she's hiding, and her arched eyebrow is inescapable. He grits his teeth as she scans the page.

"Hmm, I can't see anything here about a possession making someone hot..."

"How would he have got possessed though?" Kyle asks Kenny. "Like, it can't just happen to someone randomly, right? Isn't it something you have to invite?"

"Dude got abducted by aliens on more than one occasion. It isn't impossible. Maybe Satan realised he had potential?"

Kyle nods.

"Or maybe he owes him something... you know, the Scott Tenorman thing? Like, he took Scott's parents life - _he killed his own dad_ \- and so he's been kinda cursed to keep killing people. And the cannibalism... I don't know, could it be linked to the chilli thing? Some dramatic irony?"

Kenny sighs, his eyes wandering away from Kyle.

"Omnipotent beings really do love that irony..."

"He could've sold his soul?" Michael suggests.

"Huh?"

Kyle honestly thought that Michael and the other guy had zoned out.

"He could've sold his soul, and this is part of the bargain."

"But Cartman doesn't have a soul," Kyle replies automatically.

"Yeah." Kenny chuckles. "He's half-ginger..."

Kyle scowls, and punches his arm.

"Sorry!" Kenny replies, but is laughing even more. "I couldn't resist."

"So he has half a soul?" Firkle quips.

"Mike might be on to something," Henrietta says. "Kyle is right that possessions aren't random, so unless Cartman developed a fascination with Ouija boards and the occult then the idea of him giving his soul up is plausible."

"But why?" Kenny asks. "That's the question..."

Kyle shakes his head. This is a promising, fascinating lead but just like Cartman's sudden attractiveness, it is distracting them from the main issue. People are dying, and Cartman may be responsible. Kyle is filled with this burning, twisting urge to _do something_. It's the same feeling that filled him up when he tracked Cartman down to Fox Studios to stop _Family Guy_ getting cancelled, the same urge that had kept him up all night researching the Special Olympics when Cartman decided to cheat them. It's a desire that burns stronger than anything Kyle has ever known, to not let Cartman get away with his cruel, duplicitous schemes.

"No, the question is if he's done it," Kyle says. "That's what we need to find out first, and then his motive, and all of this will follow."

"So you don't have any proof yet?" Henrietta asks.

"No, but I'm gonna do whatever it takes to prove its him," Kyle announces.

"What?" Kenny asks, watching Kyle as he gets to his feet.

"Thanks for your help, Henrietta." He smiles, emboldened by his declaration. Admittedly, his mind is buzzing with the newfound plausibility of Kenny's theory. "I appreciate it."

Henrietta smirks around the 'O's' of smoke she's blowing.

"No problem. Keep us in the loop though, yeah? This town just got interesting again."

Kyle beams at her, and he really does feel like he wants to make her proud, like he owes her this. He always enjoys the feeling of having people counting on him, before the pressure starts to build at least.

"Will do." He nods at the other guys, again, for the sake of politeness. "See you, guys..."

"Yeah, see you..." Pete says, with a blithe, dismissive wave of his hand.

"Don't fucking nark on your brother," Firkle warns, but he's smirking like it's some inside joke that Kyle doesn't even find funny.

He realises his response will be interpreted as going along with it no matter what, so he grins.

"I'm not taking orders from a twelve year old, but I promise, I'm not gonna nark."

"Good..." Firkle replies, before taking another drag of his cigarette.

Kyle is too antsy to just keep standing there, so he walks out of the bedroom with his mind racing. It's racing with all the ways he can find out more information, get close to Cartman, and then if their theory is right, what does he do? What would be the best course of action? In this bizarre situation, what does justice even look like?

"Kyle!" he hears Kenny call after him, and then he hears him making his rushed goodbyes. "Thanks again, Hen. See you guys!"

Kenny jogs behind him, and when Kenny finally speaks they're trotting down the stairs.

"Kyle..." he says, almost timid. "Hey, Kyle... what did you mean when you said you'll do whatever it takes to prove its Cartman?"

"Was I not clear?" Kyle says, voice sharp as he whips his head around to address Kenny. "I'll do anything! I'll even be fucking nice to him if it means getting answers!"

The cold, stinging air hits Kyle's face as they leave the house but it doesn't dampen his determined exhilaration.

"And that sounds totally rational to you?" Kenny asks, by his side again.

"Rationality has gone out the window, Kenny. If we lived in a rational world, we wouldn't have a cannibalistic serial killer on the loose."

Kenny sighs.

"Fair point, and I think it's great that you wanna save the town, and bring Clyde, and Red, and Annie, and their families justice. Believe me, I get that impulse but..." Kenny grips his shoulder and it stops Kyle in his tracks. When he looks at him, Kenny has a patronising smile on his face. "Maybe this is more a job for Mysterion than the Human Kite?"

Kyle frowns, his nostrils flare, suddenly protective of the return of this exhilarating feeling. Thwarting Cartman's schemes was something he did on the regular as a kid. But he hasn't had the opportunity in so long. He's not gonna let anybody take this away from him.

"What?" he snaps, shrugging his shoulder out of Kenny's grip. "You think I can't do it?!"

"No, it's not that I think you can't do it! It's just..." Kenny looks straight into Kyle's eyes. "If what we think is true actually turns out to be true, then this could be very dangerous. Like, life-threatening."

In truth, Kyle hasn't considered that. He folds his arms across his chest.

"So is my life more valuable than yours?"

Kenny rolls his eyes and smirks.

"God, only _you_ could ask that question and be affronted about it."

"Yeah, and only you could think your life is more expendable than others."

Kenny arches an eyebrow, deflecting Kyle's comment.

"So you're fully prepared to risk getting killed by Cartman? Because that could be the reality here."

Kyle recognises that could be the case for anyone else. It could even be the case for Kenny, Cartman's supposed best friend forever. He really could kill him without a second thought. But no matter how hard he searches his brain he can't recognise it as _his_ reality. It doesn't register as a possibility that Cartman would do that to him.

"He won't kill me."

"How do you know?"

Kyle huffs, because he has no reason to believe that except everything in his being rejecting the notion.

"He just won't! I won't let him..." he says, before continuing to march down the street. But Kenny's right there beside him.

"Yeah, because his other victims were just cool with getting torn apart and eaten. It's not like they put up a fight."

"I _am_ different to Clyde, and Red, and Annie though!" he cries. "I know him! I know him a thousand times better than they ever did!"

Kenny sighs, in defeat, in resignation. Kyle gets it. This was Kenny's theory and it must suck to see Kyle take the lead on this. But he knows only he can do this, he can't watch from the sidelines while somebody takes the lead in what he's undoubtedly an expert in - taking Eric Cartman down.

Kyle sighs too, turning to face Kenny directly and stepping forward.

"Look, dude, I can't do this alone." He smiles when Kenny looks up. "I'm still gonna need your help. But I just... this has to be my thing. I can't explain it, but I feel like I have to do this, like I have to take him down. I mean I fucking owe it to Annie, right? I was the one who set them up! So what do you say?" he smirks, raising his fist for Kenny to bump. "Mysterion and Human Kite working together?"

Kenny grins, rolling his eyes and looking away as he pretends to consider Kyle's offer.

"So I'm gonna be the Robin to your Batman?"

Kyle winces.

"Are you cool with that?"

Kenny sighs. It's not as if playing sidekick is a novelty to him.

"Sure..." he says, sealing the deal with a fist bump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up that the story won't be updated next week, since it's Kyman Week, baby! My fave time of year. So please stay tuned for the fic I'm working on for that, and this story will return in two weeks time! Thank you again for reading!


	4. unaware I'm tearing you asunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, this may be the fluffiest chapter I ever write for this story, so enjoy it while it lasts! Chapter title comes from 'Running Up That Hill' by Kate Bush. As always, thank you for reading, I hope you enjoy, and I'd love to know your thoughts!

_Eric is brushing his teeth before bed. He spits into the sink, swills his mouth out with water, and as he wipes away the remaining toothpaste residue he admires his reflection in the mirror. He hasn't looked at himself this much since he was a kid, since the usual insecurities of adolescence eroded any kind of delusion he had about his appearance. It's nice to look now, and know his admiration isn't totally unfounded, and that this physical exception isn't just skin deep. He's never felt more alert, fit, and he is literally invincible. He hasn't felt cold, tired, or lethargic in weeks, and any bruises, or scratches he obtains from his hapless victims/lovers trying to fight back fade instantly. He has never felt so powerful, so capable of achieving anything he sets his mind to, so why is Kyle still evading him?_

_He always knew Kyle would be a tough one to crack, but he barely shows a hint of attraction towards him. He just acts the same as he ever did, maybe with a few more unnerved stares, and he does flush when Eric attempts to flirt with him, like he's straining desperately to smother a reaction. But those tight-lipped scowls and red cheeks are starting to lose their appeal. Eric is bored of them, and he wants more. Sighing, he shuts off the bathroom light and pads to his bedroom._

_He almost stumbles backwards into the doorframe when he sees Damien standing by his desk, and he burns with anger and embarrassment when he sees what he's flipping through so casually. His photography portfolio._

_Damien looks up, face still._

_"Hello, Eric."_

_Eric snarls, charges over to him._

_"What the fuck are you doing with that? Give it to me!"_

_Eric rips the portfolio out of Damien's hands with such little resistance it's kind of embarrassing. Really, why did he think he would want to look at it that much? He scowls, not meeting Damien's eyes as he presses it to his chest._

_"What makes you think you can go through my property?"_

_"I was curious. You have a lot of photos of Kyle in there, drawings too."_

_Eric winces, not needing to be reminded of that fact. He tries to shrug as nonchalantly as possible, but it's hard when every muscle in his body has tensed up._

_"Yeah... so!" he finally snaps, indignant. "So what? It's no secret I'm in love with him."_

_"Then why are you so defensive?"_

_"I'm not! I... " Eric sighs, sitting on his bed. He opens the portfolio to where Kyle's photos are. He doesn't even have to think, or peruse. It's muscle memory now, opening those pages. "It was for an art project," he explains, studying each oblivious photo of Kyle just being himself, all of them hanging out, a snapshot of his everyday life._

_The thing is, Eric doesn't think that Kyle is particularly handsome. If he didn't know him at all, he'd think he was unremarkable. But Eric does know him, and he thinks he is remarkable. He traces the accompanying watercolour sketches, the outline of Kyle's frizzy, red hair he still hasn't figured out how to style (and that Eric couldn't do justice to with pencil), his jaw, cheekbones, bumpy nose and blue-green eyes. All beautiful because they're_ Kyle's _hair, jaw cheekbones, nose, and eyes. A smile flickers on Eric's face. "I didn't mean to take so many of him. But something that day... just kept drawing me to him. I got some great shots... but I decided it was too..."_

_"Personal? Homoerotic?"_

_Eric's smile wilts, and he gulps._

_"Something like that..." he whispers. "So I did my project on something else instead."_

_Frowning, he shuts the portfolio and sets it aside. He glares at Damien._

_"What are you even doing here?"_

_Damien shrugs, more obnoxious than usual. Probably the omniscience, Eric thinks._

_"Just wanted to check in. You seem to be relishing your newfound attractiveness, and sating your appetite regularly, which is good news for me-"_

_"What? How is it good news for you?"_

_"Well, because my army of damned souls is growing!" he grins, before folding his arms. "You told me you read the contract? Souls aren't collectibles, and I don't do this out of the goodness of my heart. It's purely quid pro quo. My population is growing, and you get the guy-"_

_"Yeah, except I haven't gotten him yet," Eric snaps, and it's thankfully not as despondent as he thought it would be._

_"Not my fault."_

_"Oh, it's not? I'm not getting what I fucking paid for!"_

_Damien sighs._

_"I only made you hot. You made the leap in logic that becoming attractive would make Kyle like you. I've made you attractive, and now you're irresistible."_

_Eric huffs, rolls his eyes._

_"Yeah, except not to the person who matters," he mutters._

_"Don't pretend like you're not enjoying everything else," Damien says, moving closer to Eric and standing right in front of him. He wonders why Damien doesn't just sit down, but he figures standing up is a power move. "I know how invigorated this new diet makes you feel, I know it's satisfying for you to seduce and slaughter the classmates who made fun of you for your appearance. Don't blame me for the fact that you have made little headway with Kyle, and that you're easily distracted."_

_Eric sighs, because it's true. He is addicted to this invincible feeling, and to the sadistic schadenfreude of luring in those fickle classmates who once found him so unappealing, realising just how right they were to avoid him when he sinks his fangs in and watches the life drain from their bodies._

_"Fine..." he meets Damien's eyes. "You're right."_

_"Of course I'm right."_

_"I've taken my eye off the ball, but I don't really know what more I can do. Get hotter?"_

_Damien's shoulder twitches in a shrug._

_"Perhaps you can try being nice to him?"_

_Eric blinks, the very notion making him prickle all over, foreign and unsettling._

_"Huh? Do you even know me and Kyle?"_

_"Yes, I do and I think your current behaviour is not conducive to a romantic relationship. The flirting, and the stares, and the goading of some embarrassed, flustered reaction from him in a locker room may be a good start to a porno, but not to the love story you so clearly want to star in."_

_Eric shakes his head, frowning at Damien's condescension. It's hard to hear, and Eric doesn't want to entertain the fact why that is._

_"Dude, stop acting like you know anything about me and Kyle. It's super annoying-"_

_"I know everything about you and Kyle," Damien interjects. "And while your relationship_ is _unique that doesn't mean different rules apply. You like a person, you be nice to them. It's as simple as that. Good looks and a pleasant demeanour is a killer combination."_

_Easier said than done, Eric thinks. Kyle would find him suddenly acting nice and friendly probably more disturbing and offensive than his physical transformation._

_"Why do you even care?"_

_"Because I'm grateful for everything you're doing, and I wanted to give you some friendly advice. I did tell you that I wanted to help you get the guy."_

_A half-smile tugs at the corner of Eric's mouth._

_"I think you're more of your father's son than you let on."_

_Damien sighs, disregarding that statement._

_"Listen, you clearly have the ability - and maybe even the inclination - to treat Kyle well." He gestures to Eric's portfolio. "I think those sappy, earnest photographs and sketches prove it. You've just got to let Kyle know this side of you."_

_Eric doesn't make a sound. His shoulders rise and fall, he chews his lip as he considers that Damien may be right. He hasn't gotten anywhere all these years, so maybe a change of direction will lead him to his desired destination._

_"Goodbye, Eric," Damien says, not waiting for Eric's response. "Speak soon."_

_He vanishes in a puff of black smoke._

* * *

Kyle is having a pretty quiet lunch with Kenny, Butters, and Stan until Cartman storms over to their table. His fists are clenched, his shoulders hunched and drawn tight, flying over to their table like a rocket. When he's close enough, Kyle can see that he's scowling, glaring, his hair skims his eyebrows and makes him look more deranged, casting him in a dark, smouldering shadow. But Kyle is surprised at how un-menacing he looks, given the theory that has been swirling around his head for a couple days now.

It keeps Kyle up at night, and lurches to the forefront of his mind when he least expects it during the day. Kyle can't imagine what Cartman may look like when he's in the middle of devouring his victims, but he's seen this furious Cartman too many times before to feel truly intimidated or unnerved by it. Even if the aesthetics are admittedly more pleasing. What unnerves Kyle more is how he's so easily regressed into 'nothing is wrong mode.' Forced to consider what Cartman could be capable of, Kyle thought he wouldn't be able to hold his nerve, keep his cool, or even keep his stomach settled. He supposes that when you've been surrounded by evil for years, it's depressingly easy to get used to.

Even when he's too tall to do so, Cartman pushes Kenny and Butters apart and wedges himself in between them, almost knocking their lunches to the floor. Kyle rolls his eyes at the clatter, the chaotic, irritating entrance he has to make.

"Hey, where've you been, Eric?" Butters asks, chipper as ever.

Cartman huffs.

"I've been getting boned by that that bitch Mrs Harris, that's where I've been, Butters!"

"Really?" Kenny asks, as unfazed as ever. "That's kinda hot."

"What? No, not literally, creep!"

"How am I a creep for thinking older women are sexy? I think that's a positively feminist stance!" Kenny looks to Stan and Kyle for back up. "Guys?"

Stan wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head.

"Sorry, dude, I think calling certain types of women sexy isn't really feminist. I think it's the opposite."

Cartman snorts derisively, shaking his head.

"God, Testaburger trained you well."

Kyle sighs, mourning his lost, quiet lunch.

"No, older women aren't sexy, Kenny, especially when they're taking advantage of underage students."

Kyle grimaces when Cartman's eyes light up. He plops his elbow on the table, squishes his cheek against his fist.

"Aww, Kyle, are you actually concerned about my wellbeing?"

Kyle narrows his eyes at him.

"More like I can still remember by brother being groomed and raped by his kindergarten teacher."

Cartman doesn't move, doesn't waver, but there is definitely a heavy, fidgety shift in tone when the 'r word' gets mentioned. Kenny sighs, running a hand over his face.

"Shit, Kyle, I totally forgot about that," he says, "I'm so sorry, dude."

It's only then Cartman breaks, sitting up and shaking his head. He tuts.

"Seriously, Kenny, shame on you..."

He's still smiling though, and even though Kyle didn't think his disappointment was sincere in the first place, that stupid smile gives it all away.

"No offence to Kyle, but how was I supposed to remember that? A lot of shit happened between third and fourth grade! And like, ninety percent of it was spearheaded by you."

Cartman shrugs, eyes closed.

"I'm not going to apologise for giving you all colourful childhoods." He grins. "That's what you signed up for when you befriended me."

"We used to think public urination was a fun game when we befriended you so our judgement was clearly not the best," Stan points out.

Kyle rolls his eyes. How the fuck did they even get here?

"Nor is our ability to stay on fucking topic," he says impatiently. "Why was Harris, uh, 'boning', you, Cartman?"

Cartman smiles, his lower lip pouting again like it did in Red's memorial service. He tilts his head to look at Kyle like he just said something adorable.

"You're such a virgin, Kyle. You can't even say 'boning' without getting all flustered."

"I'm not flustered!" Kyle snaps, hating how his burning ears are giving him away. "I've just never heard that word used in that context before."

Cartman sighs.

"Well, if you must know, I'm failing calculus."

Kyle blinks. He feels another fidgety, tonal shift but this one is of excitement and opportunity. He clears his throat in an effort to subdue it. He has to play it cool.

"Have you got your last test?"

Cartman's brow furrows, and he nods.

"Let me take a look."

Cartman wordlessly reaches into the back pocket of his jeans. He has to lean against Kenny to get access, and Kyle thinks he spends a lot longer and rummages a lot deeper than is necessary to find what he wants. Kenny is gripping the corner of his table by the time Cartman pulls a crumpled, folded up piece of paper out of his pocket. He hands it to Kyle.

Kyle unfolds the paper, and it feels almost frayed due to the insufficient storage. He tries to read Cartman's answers, tries to navigate around the red marker scrawlings, but he's distracted by Cartman's stare boring holes into him from across the table. Kyle has to fight to not look over the top of the paper.

"You wanna split my pudding with me, Eric?" Butters asks, lifting his small pudding cup to Cartman's face.

"No, thanks."

"But have you eaten-"

"God, Butters get your rancid pudding out of my face!"

"Hey!" Butters snaps. "It's fine..." he lifts it to his nose and sniffs it. He grimaces. "Hmm, maybe not..."

"Do you even try to answer them correctly or do you just guess?" Kyle asks, hiding his smile behind the paper. God, Cartman sucks at math.

"It's the most boring class I take, Kyle, you decide."

Kyle shrugs, betraying his heart racing with opportunity.

"I can tutor you if you want?"

Cartman's face drops.

"What?"

"Yeah, what?" Stan asks beside him, and Kyle is caught off-guard by his abrasive tone and wide eyes.

Still, he's calm when he repeats his offer.

"I could tutor you?"

Cartman blinks a couple of times, his mouth still agape as if he's trying to process what's happening. Kyle didn't think it would be such an outrageous offer, but Stan and Cartman's reactions seem to suggest it is.

"Suh-seriously?"

Kyle nods.

"Yeah, how about after school today?"

Cartman doesn't answer for a while, still bewildered, before his usual, goading grin spreads across his face.

"What makes you think you could make calculus more compelling?"

Kyle rolls his eyes, and huffs. He begins to fold Cartman's calculus homework back up into the compact, crushed shape it was in.

"I don't know, I was just trying to be nice. But if you don't want to-"

"No, that sounds good!" Cartman leaps in, before he clears his throat. "Uh... thanks..."

"No problem," Kyle replies, suddenly meek, as if Cartman's sheepishness is contagious.

* * *

Stan is quiet for the rest of lunch, not talking or making eye contact, just ploughing through his meal even though Kyle could tell he wasn't enjoying it. He feels bad that he may be responsible, and honestly, a little confused as to why he should feel responsible and if that guilt is misplaced. Should he really feel bad for something so innocent? Should he feel bad if Stan feels threatened by absolutely nothing at all? Kyle doesn't think he should, but he doesn't want the cold shoulder forever. He's watching Stan put some books into his locker, insular and low, retreating into himself. Even now, after all these years, Kyle doesn't know how to handle it, how to bring Stan around again, but nothing stops him from trying. Especially when he has a new technique up his sleeve. He takes a deep breath and makes his way over to him.

"Hey..." he smiles.

"What's up?" Stan asks, shutting his locker.

Kyle shrugs, as if nothing is bothering him, as if he came over here for no reason at all.

"Nothing, I just..." he glances at the janitor's closet. "I wanna talk to you." His eyes widen, and he tilts his head in the direction of the door. "In private."

Stan glances between the janitor's closet and Kyle and frowns, before it dawns on him. He blinks, mouth falling open in a small, silent gasp.

"Oh..." he smiles. "Oh, sure, okay..."

Kyle chuckles, biting his lip, and Stan looks around the corridor before they dart across the hall and slip into the closet. Kyle clicks the door shut behind him.

"What did you wanna- _hmmph!"_

Kyle cuts Stan off by pressing their lips together and slinging his arms around his neck. Stan stumbles from the unexpected collision but soon returns the kiss. He fits his hands at Kyle's waist, and tilts his head.

"You didn't really think I wanted to come in here to talk, did you?" Kyle asks when they come up for air.

The light is dim in the janitor's closet, but he can make out Stan's wide, heady smile. It's nice to know that a good kiss is an easy remedy to Stan's blues.

"I don't know." He chuckles. "You like talking."

Kyle returns the chuckle before smashing their lips together again, as if to prove that he may like talking but he enjoys kissing Stan just as much.

"I think you might have blown our cover though..." Stan murmurs, still smiling, noses brushing together.

Kyle blinks, pulling back with brows furrowed.

"We had a cover?" he asks, smiling. His hands have now moved to Stan's upper arms.

"Well, yeah, this isn't exactly public-"

"I don't think it would make a difference if it was." Kyle chuckles, because honestly, who would really care?

Stan concedes that point with a kiss, and they continue making out, gentle and eager for a while until Kyle feels like Stan has been placated enough to hear him out.

"Um..." he says, breathless and pursing his warm, flushed lips. "I actually did have something I wanted to talk to you about though..."

"Yeah, what's that?" Stan asks, foreheads pressed together and nuzzling Kyle.

Kyle gulps, stroking Stan's arms for encouragement. He frowns.

"I noticed you were a little off at lunch..." he winces. "After I offered to tutor Cartman..."

Stan's eyes have wandered away from Kyle's face, but Kyle is determined to follow them.

"Oh... right..."

Kyle purses his lips again, considering his words.

"I didn't realise it would make you uncomfortable-"

Stan looks him in the eyes again.

"So you're not gonna do it?"

Kyle blinks, that never entered his mind.

"What? No, I'm gonna do it." He grips Stan's arms now. "I have to do it."

Stan rolls his eyes to the ceiling.

"Then why bring it up-"

"Because I wanted to apologise for making you uncomfortable!"

"You know what would really make me feel better? If you didn't do this."

Kyle swallows again, shaking his head.

"I can't do that."

Stan looks at him, incredulous.

"Why?! Why the hell are you even doing this, Kyle?"

Kyle gives Stan's shoulders another encouraging grip.

"Because if I spend more time with him maybe I'll find out if he's the killer-"

Stan huffs, face creased as if his exasperation is painful.

"No! No, this again?!"

It hurts Kyle too, and his nostrils flare, his throat tightens.

"Yes, this again!" he snaps, letting Stan go. "This is fucking serious, Stan! So I'm sorry if it annoys you but you're gonna have to just deal with me talking about it-"

"It's not that I'm annoyed, Kyle, it's that I'm worried about you! And you should be worried too! God, if you're so convinced that he's dangerous why are you volunteering to be alone with him?"

It was the same reason he insisted to Kenny that he take the lead on this. He had to do this. When it came to Cartman and his schemes, Kyle was a control freak, a perfectionist. He had to do it his way or he wouldn't be satisfied, and if that meant risking his safety, his life, by being alone with him then so be it. Clyde, Red, and Annie had lost their lives because he hadn't been paying enough attention.

"Because... the right decisions aren't always the safe ones. Someone has to do the right thing, someone has to put a stop to this!"

Stan crosses his arms.

"And helping him with his calc homework is gonna do that?"

Kyle sighs, steps a little closer. During their argument, some distance has grown between them.

"I know it seems crazy, but we don't have the luxury of dismissing crazy things around her. I have to do this, okay? I have to..."

Stan is looking at the floor as he considers Kyle's answer. He nods, in defeat. He knows he's never going to win.

"Fine... fine, just..." he looks into Kyle's eyes, and his own are glimmering. "Promise you'll be careful."

Kyle nods, sealing the promise with a kiss to his cheek, another gesture in the hopes Stan will come around again. He just gives Kyle a small, weak smile, before brushing past him and leaving him alone in the closet.

* * *

Kyle is emptying his locker at the end of the day, unsure what lies ahead of him this evening, but hoping to make even the smallest gains in his mission to find out what the fuck is going on with Cartman. He hasn't seen him since lunch to make any definitive plans, nor has he received a single text, nor has he attempted to reach out to him himself. He was eager to grasp the opportunity when it was front of him, and still doesn't want to let it go, but actually making plans with Cartman is something he wants to put off. It would feel like a strange blow to his pride.

When he shuts his locker, however, he jumps to see Cartman's face behind the door. He's leaning his shoulder against the locker next to him. How the hell did Kyle not hear him approaching?

"Hey..." he grins, broad and cocky as ever but without the usual goading glint in his eye.

"Oh..." Kyle says, a little flushed but that's probably due to Cartman's unexpected entrance. "Hi.."

Cartman's grin wilts, arching an eyebrow and studying Kyle's face.

"We're still on for tutoring, aren't we?"

Kyle's brow creases and he nods, puzzled.

"Yeah, sure, I just thought I'd meet you in the car-"

"I wanted to walk," Cartman cuts in, standing up straighter and moving forward. Kyle notes there was a small intake of breath before Cartman announced that.

"Why?"

"Because it's a nice day, and it's good exercise, and it's better for the environment-"

"The whole reason we decided to carpool was because of the environment. Remember our driver is the head of eco council."

Cartman smirks, rolling his shoulders back.

"Well, this is my decision, not Stan's."

Panic presses at Kyle's resolve. He considers how strange and random this all is, Cartman wanting to walk home with him, and his insistence that they do so. He wants them to be alone together, and given what Kyle believes, that's a scary thought. No matter how ready he thinks he is to face that possibility, no matter how much he wants to believe he's the exception to the grisly rule.

"So you coming or what?" Cartman presses.

If anything was going to make Kyle snap out of it, it was a challenge from Cartman.

He nods.

"Yeah, fine..."

They walk down the hallway together in silence. Cartman has his hands in pockets and doesn't even make eye contact with Kyle. Kyle walks with the straight back and shoulders, the raised chin of someone being sent to the gallows, dignified resignation before death.

_He won't hurt you. He won't hurt you. He won't hurt you._

The cold, afternoon air hits his face as they step outside. Stan and Kenny are milling about by Stan's car, waiting for them. Kyle's throat clenches, and they trot down the steps in time. Stan smiles when he sees them approaching.

"Hey, you guys ready-"

"We're not having a ride today," Cartman cuts in, as they briskly pass by the car.

Stan's face falls.

"What?"

Kyle has gone from damned criminal to harried celebrity, as Cartman practically escorts him away from Stan and Kenny. He looks over his tense shoulder.

"We're walking to Cartman's."

Stan doesn't respond, doesn't even look at him. He gets into the car with his head down. Kenny and Kyle lock eyes, communicating silent, solemn support across the parking lot. Kenny gives him a nod, before sitting shotgun.

"Are you and Marsh really that co-dependent that you can't go one car journey without each other?"

"Huh?"

Kyle was so focused on watching the car pull out of its parking space that he is unsure he heard correctly.

Cartman smiles meanly.

"Don't worry, I'm sure your periods will still be in-sync when he picks you up tomorrow."

Kyle rolls his eyes at such a typical, dumb Cartman comment and smiles.

"For your information, if we all had ovaries then given the amount of time we spend together all of our periods would've synced up."

"Really?" Cartman asks, like he thought the syncing-up of periods was just a myth.

Kyle nods.

"Girls are weird, man..."

"You do realise you're seventeen?"

Cartman grins.

"You do realise you're seventeen and still have never had a girlfriend?"

Kyle scowls, face heating despite himself in light of recent events. He doesn't think their group has ever kept so many secrets from each other. He doesn't even think Kenny is entirely innocent, if his frequent visits to the Goths are anything to go by. Maybe that's just what happens when you and your childhood friends grow older, you become wrapped up in your own lives and problems, detaching yourself from each other's. Although Kyle feels like his life intertwined with Cartman's a long time ago, the first time he decided to do something morally reprehensible and Kyle decided it was his duty to stop him.

"Well, if Stan and I annoy you so much then why don't you walk home every day?" he asks, and it comes out a lot more defensive than intended.

Cartman shrugs, looks at the sidewalk.

"It's just easier to have a ride."

Kyle blinks, smiles to himself. A little part of his theory just got validated, and he wants to push for more.

"You haven't been exercising at all? Then how did you get so..."

"Buff?" Cartman grins. "Hot?"

Kyle narrows his eyes.

" _In shape..._ "

Cartman shrugs again, looking at the sidewalk. Coy, but not shifty. Kyle peers at him closely.

"The same way everyone does when they wanna get skinny fast," he finally replies. "Skipping meals and a whole lot of laxatives."

Kyle grimaces.

"Okay, ew..."

Cartman chuckles.

"Would you or would you not have ripped on me if I told you I was working out?"

"I would've ripped on you a little, but I would've been... glad... to know that you were taking care of yourself. You thought I wouldn't rip on you if you told me you were taking laxatives on the regular?"

"No, because I know the image of me, all sweaty and straining on the toilet would gross you out into silence."

Just like Cartman predicted, Kyle only responds with another grimace.

"Ha, see! You're grossed out by it right now!" he laughs. "Shitting is a perfectly normal bodily function, Kyle. Even tight-asses like you do it."

Kyle frowns, avoiding eye contact.

"I'd rather not talk about my bowel movements with you."

"Don't have to. I've walked in on you enough times when we were kids." He laughs again. "You were so cute when your little legs couldn't reach the floor!"

"Was that just a big power trip to you? Being able to invade my privacy?"

Cartman's shoulders are still shaking with laughter, his smile stretched wide.

"No, it was just funny. Remember when I brought Heidi with me?"

Kyle sighs because, yes, he definitely remembers that humiliating experience.

"I can't believe the first time a girl saw my dick it was while I was on the toilet... and you were in the same room..."

"Kyle, I wouldn't exactly call that a landmark moment. It doesn't count when your dick was like this big." He holds his index finger above his thumb, squinting at the miniscule gap between the two.

Kyle chuckles.

"Yeah, but it was this much." He copies Cartman exactly, grinning. "Bigger than yours."

Cartman just laughs, shoving his hands in his pockets. Kyle's shoulders soften, and he falls into buoyant step with him.

Cartman's house is empty when they arrive, but Kyle isn't unsettled by the quiet, or the dim light of the living room. The walk home, full of dick jokes and the usual, crude Cartman conversation has assuaged his fears somewhat. He has to remind himself not to be too distracted, because while it's easy for him to look at Cartman and not see a cannibalistic, sadistic serial killer, it's even easier for him to fall blindly into their rhythms.

"Do you wanna head on up?" Cartman asks. "I'll get us some snacks."

Kyle nods.

"Okay..."

Cartman offers him a small, tight smile that leaves Kyle staring after him before he disappears into the kitchen. He reminds himself of what he's here to do, and jogs up the stairs. His heart is pounding as he marches down the hallway, thrilled to have this chance to look for clues.

He has no qualms with rooting through Cartman's nightstand, or his wardrobe for any shred of evidence, any suspicious items. God knows Cartman has done that to him enough times. He's found nothing so far, and he makes a beeline for his desk. There's a couple of empty soda cans, dusty, childhood photographs, and his laptop. Then, teetering on the edge of the desk he finds a black, dog-eared book with yellowing pages, a white pentagram on the cover's centre.

_Beginner's Guide to the Occult._

Kyle doesn't realise he's stumbled back until his foot hits the wheel of Cartman's desk chair. He pushes it backwards, and has to grip the desk for balance. His stomach swoops with joy, and disbelief, before fluttering with anxiety. This was always going to be a bittersweet mission. He gathers himself before Cartman comes in, slipping his backpack off his shoulders and shoving the book in his bag. That's his night-time reading figured out.

He can't help but smile, his eyes scanning the desk with a milder fascination now he has found such a potentially crucial clue. It's then he spots another black book, tall, and thin, and shoved in the corner of the little alcove. He frowns, retrieving the book, strange enough to be suspicious. It has no cover, no title. It's just a notebook. Kyle considers putting it back. He still believes in respecting people's privacy, even if that person is Cartman, and even if he may be committing heinous acts. But that rush of finding the occult book was so potent and heady, that Kyle wants to feel it again. He opens the book, and is faced with an entirely different revelation.

Cartman is an excellent photographer.

Kyle knew he was into photography. He knew he had been for years, and Cartman had taken photographs around him before. But he never knew he was this great, that he saw their strange town and reflected the beauty staring back. There are photos of the sun rising over the mountains, needling rays stabbing at the red sky, at the black, jagged silhouettes. There are photos of Stark's pond, the glittering snow, and the still, shimmering water. There are almost psychedelic photos of the woods, armies of kaleidoscopic trees going on forever and ever and ever. There are even photos of Cartman's ancient cat, lounging on the floor with her paw covering her eyes, and staring intently at the snow falling outside a window.

Kyle is smiling, and has wandered over to Cartman's bed. His smile fades however, when he turns the page and sees himself, oblivious and happy, staring back. The springs of the mattress bounce beneath him as he plops down on the bed. Kyle can't remember the day Cartman took those photos, they seem like any other. Kyle can't tell what it was about him that day that made Cartman want to take photo after photo, but he wishes he could remember his life this way. Blemishes removed, background drowned out, just emotion piercing through. He wishes he could see his life the way Cartman sees it through his camera's lens. And then there's the sketches. His face drawn in delicate lines, certain features like his cheekbones, nose, and jaw drawn over and over again in darker, deeper pencil, highlighted and extenuated. And his eyes, Kyle can't believe Cartman thinks his eyes are that colour. He supposes he's right, they are somewhere between a blue and a green. But are they really the vibrant blue-green shade Cartman has gone for? They're beautiful, and something in Kyle's chest swells when he considers this may very well be how Cartman sees his eyes every time he looks at him.

"My mom only had Sprite. I hope that's- " they both freeze at the same time. Cartman's shoulders droop, he exhales. "Oh..."

"Cartman, what is this?" Kyle asks around the lump in his throat. It sounds accusatory, when Kyle doesn't mean it to be. But it's hard to relay awe.

"That's um..." Cartman purses his lips, places the cans of sprite and the bowl of chips on his nightstand. "That's my portfolio..."

Kyle bristles at Cartman's under-reaction. He shouldn't feel so calm that Kyle has found this, he should be yelling, grabbing the book from Kyle, laughing nervously as he tries to lie his way out of the awkwardness. It throws Kyle, he can't rely on his usual reactions to Cartman's behaviour.

"Wh- I don't... why am I in it?" he asks, it's all he can think to say.

Cartman's eyes roam the floor, and he rubs his palms on his jeans.

"I, uh... I had a project for art class," he says, taking a seat next to him. Kyle stares. "I had to photograph something, so..." he gulps, meets Kyle's eyes and he actually looks timid. "I photographed you."

Kyle is dumbfounded.

"And the sketches?" he manages to ask, glad his tone is a lot softer than before.

Cartman shifts, smiles sheepishly.

"Well, I really liked how the photos came out... the colour of your hair, and, um, your eyes... they really stood out so, I wanted to see if I could recreate it." He shrugs. "I thought it would be cool..."

Kyle nods, eyes flitting back and forth between Cartman and the photographs.

"No, it is cool, and these photographs... all of them... they're pretty great." A smile spreads across his face, and he shifts to face Cartman completely. The portfolio balances on his leg. "Have you ever thought about doing this professionally?"

Cartman sighs, collapsing into his bed.

"Yeah, sure, but it seems like too much hard work."

Kyle scoffs, incredulous.

"Hard work? Cartman, you ran at least five different businesses before we left elementary school, I'm sure you could be a self-employed, freelance photographer, no problem."

Cartman turns his head, grins.

"I'd need someone to do my book-keeping though."

"Who?" Kyle blinks."Me?"

"Yeah, you! Probably the most successful business I had was one I ran with you. You're a great accountant." He says that last part softly, as if being an accountant was Kyle's calling in life he had forgotten about.

Kyle chuckles, rolls his eyes.

"I'm gonna have to pass. I kind of have my sights set on being a teacher."

"How about doing my taxes in your spare time? I think friends do that for each other."

"Friends also help each other with their homework, so let's do it."

Kyle doesn't know exactly how he makes tutoring calculus more compelling than Cartman's usual lessons, but they're an hour in and he still seems engaged, and he's getting the correct answers more and more. It renews Kyle's enthusiasm for teaching. After all, if he can keep Cartman's attention then there is no smartass, troublesome kid he can't teach.

They're sat on Cartman's bed. Kyle is sat near the foot of the bed, juggling textbooks on his lap with one leg dangling off the side, while Cartman is lounging against his headboard, notebook in his lap. There's a bowl of Doritos in between them, and Kyle is the only one who seems to be eating them. Cartman's lack of appetite lately is growing more and more suspicious, but is also concerning.

"You haven't touched those chips."

"Oh..." Cartman glances at the bowl, before looking up at Kyle again. He shifts. "Oh, well, I told you... I don't eat anymore."

"Cartman, that is preposterous. If you didn't eat you would be so much skinnier."

He frowns at him, and Kyle feels a little guilty. He didn't mean it to come out that way.

"Thanks for the feedback, Kyle. I just... I don't eat that kind of food anymore."

"I haven't seen you eat in, like, a week," Kyle says, and it's more alarming when he says it out loud.

Cartman huffs, rolling his eyes.

"Why do you care?"

"Because that's not healthy-"

Cartman huffs again, louder. He throws his hands up in the air, and loses his pencil somewhere Kyle can't see.

"I can't fucking win with you, Kyle. First, you bitch at me for eating too much, now you're bitching at me for eating too little."

"There's a lot of room between stuffing your face and starving yourself," he snaps. "You can have one chip and then if you must you can take a laxative and shit it all out of you."

Amusement flickers across Cartman's face.

"You didn't cringe then."

"I don't cringe when I'm making a point. Can't you just have one?"

Cartman sighs, presses his lips together as he considers it.

"Fine..."

Kyle watches as Cartman reaches for a chip, and chews it slowly, mechanically.

"Good, right?" he smiles.

Cartman arches an eyebrow at him.

"I have eaten a Dorito before."

Kyle just grins, reaching for a chip too and placing it in his mouth. He looks over Cartman's calculus test again as he chews.

"Okay, so let's go over question sixteen." he reaches into the bowl for another chip. "I think I know where you went wrong in your-"

Kyle's brain completely freezes when he feels his fingertips brush against Cartman's. He gulps down the chip already in his mouth. Their eyes meet at the exact same time, uncomfortable but neither of them look way, or move their hand. The tips of Kyle's ears are burning. Why is this happening? This shouldn't feel so uncomfortable.

"S-s-sorry, go ahead," he manages to say.

"No, you go ahead."

"Cartman, I want you to have the chip."

"I don't want the chip!"

Nor should it be so difficult.

"When was the last time you ate? You need the chip more than me!"

"I'm not taking my hand out of this bowl until you do," Cartman says, with a conviction that rouses goosebumps.

Kyle doesn't move. He can't move, when Cartman is looking at him so intently. His breath is ragged, his lips are parted, his eyes are trying to communicate something, boring into Kyle, and Kyle can't help but think of his photography, the sketches, the way he replicated, recreated, reimagined him in pencil. It all started with this, Kyle thinks, Cartman staring at him just like he is now. Maybe he stares at him more than Kyle even notices? Then suddenly, Cartman's gaze drops, and the plummet is enough to make Kyle twitch. He follows his gaze, and sees that Cartman's fingers are brushing his skin, moving up his hand, his arm. Kyle lets Cartman clasp his wrist, gentle, ghostly, like he knows he shouldn't touch him. But he's bold enough to rub soft circles with his thumb, and Kyle can feel the outline in crumbs. Kyle can barely breathe, think, and Cartman is silent. This isn't right, none of this is right. This isn't what he came here for.

He snatches his hand away from Cartman's phantom grip. He ignores the disappointed withering of Cartman's fingers, tears his eyes away from the confusion on his face.

"I-I-I gotta go. I'll be having dinner soon-"

He shoves the calculus textbooks off his lap and gets up, knocking the bowl of Doritos with his knee and sending them spilling over the bed and onto the carpet.

Kyle stares, shaking and furious at the mess. Why did he have to leave like this?

"Shit!"

"It's okay..." Cartman murmurs, swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"Sorry, I'll help you before I go..."

Kyle crouches down and they both start gathering up the stray chips, dropping them back into the bowl.

"You don't have to leave..."

Cartman didn't look at Kyle when he said that, but it still draws their eyes to each other.

"No, I really do..." Kyle replies, and his voice sounds so heavy.

When they've cleaned up as best they can, with only tiny crumbs left to sweep up, Kyle stands up. Cartman looks up at him, on his knees with eyes gleaming, and it's unnerving to say the least.

"We can do this again tomorrow though, can't we?"

Kyle nods without thinking about it. He doesn't want to refuse him. He slips his backpack on his shoulders.

"Yeah, sure... should be okay..."

Cartman nods, smiling almost to himself.

"Thanks for everything."

"No problem," Kyle replies, glancing at the door, desperate for escape. "I really have to go..."

Kyle rushes out of the room without a goodbye. His heart is racing as he leaves behind the most exhilarating, disorientating moment of his life, a million, chattering questions buzzing in his brain. As he walks home, he realises that the orange pattern of crumbs is still on his arm, a faint, wobbly circle. Without thinking about it, he lifts his arm to his mouth and licks his skin. He closes his eyes, and the first thing that comes to mind is Cartman's touch.

* * *

When Kyle looks out of his living room window the next morning to see Stan's car outside, he is filled with trepidation. Cartman may have joked about the fact that everything would have reset by now, that Stan may have been pissed that Kyle had forgone a ride home to walk with Cartman instead, but he would forget about it by morning. Kyle seems to have no such luck, with Kenny taking his usual place shotgun, and Cartman sat in the back. Kyle doesn't know which scenario he is dreading more, thawing out Stan's frostiness, or forced to sit next to Cartman following their tense, bizarre tutoring session. Kyle has little time to make his mind up. An impatient beep jolts him out of his increasingly anxious thoughts. He takes a deep breath and steps outside, making his way to the car.

Everyone's eyes are drawn to him when he gets in. But Stan and Cartman only spare him quick glances, ranging from hurt to wary. Kenny is the only one unafraid to keep his eyes on him and smile.

"'Sup, Kyle?"

Kyle returns the smile, tight and grateful.

"Hey..." he leans forward. "Hi, Stan..."

Stan looks at him in the rear view mirror, as stony as possible. It's not the most intimidating, but it still makes Kyle wither.

"Hey..." he murmurs, before starting the car.

Kyle smothers a sigh, and reclines.

"I think you've been demoted..." Cartman comments. When Kyle looks at him, he's scrolling through his phone and smirking.

Kyle scowls.

"It literally means nothing... and by the way, that's an admission of your own inferiority."

"It would be if I measured my self-worth by where I sit in Stan's car."

"I can hear you, you know!" Stan snaps.

Kenny laughs in an attempt at levity.

"Yeah, don't make him turn this car around!"

"We weren't saying anything bad!" Cartman replies, before shaking his head. "Whatever, screw you guys."

He reaches into his pants pocket, pulling out his earphones. Kyle frowns, a little disappointed that Cartman is basically shutting out conversation. But maybe it's for the best if he stares out of the window for the rest of the journey. Conversation in this car seems impossible this morning anyway. Soon, however, Kyle can hear the faint, unmistakable opening to _Running Up That Hill_ , and he smiles. That warm, excited feeling of somebody else liking the same thing he does is magnified when he considers its Cartman who is into Kate Bush too. It's a pleasant surprise to say the least. Sure, they thrive on disagreement but it's always nice to find common ground.

"Hey..." Kyle says, tapping his shoulder.

Cartman frowns, taking one earphone out.

"Kate Bush, right?" he asks.

Cartman blinks, frown fading as he nods. Really, Kyle shouldn't be surprised. 80s pop was always Cartman's thing, he was always muttering lyrics under his breath.

"You know her?"

Kyle arches an eyebrow, snickering. Even if he thought he was the only one of his friends to like her music, it's not as if she's some obscure, indie artist that only Cartman should know about.

"Cartman, she is one of the most critically acclaimed, influential artists of all time. Of course I know who Kate Bush is."

"Is she that British hippie chick?" Kenny asks, craning his neck to look at them in the rear view mirror.

It takes Kyle by surprise, he could have almost forgotten there were other people in the car.

Cartman pouts.

"Don't slander her like that! She's not a hippie!"

Kyle's nose wrinkles and he tilts his head at the technicality.

"She is kind of a hippie though..."

"Just because someone possess hippie-like qualities doesn't make them a hippie. I consider that a derogatory term."

Kyle scoffs.

"You're the only one who does."

Cartman chuckles, and rakes his gaze over him. But it doesn't seem as calculating as before, doesn't make Kyle feel quite so unnerved. It's shyer, softer, sort of endearing.

"You wanna..." he offers Kyle his earphone.

Kyle blinks, staring at it warily. It was a simple, innocent invitation but after yesterday he doesn't know where those simple, innocent invitations will lead anymore. Cartman rolls his eyes, seems to misread Kyle's reluctance completely. He rubs the earphone on his shirt, and offers it to Kyle again.

"That better?"

It does make Kyle feel a little better. Cartman seems to be opting for blissful ignorance, and Kyle doesn't want to ruin it for him. He nods, smiling and slipping the earphone in.

A familiar, favourite song in his ear and the familiar town passing by allows Kyle to relax even more, recline in his seat. His shoulders are rigid but as the climax to the song approaches his whole body sighs.

"For once, I'm impressed by your music taste, Kyle." Cartman grins.

Kyle ignores the initial, stinging offence he feels at Cartman questioning his music taste. That is something deeply personal, subjective, and integral to his personality in a lot of ways, so having it disparaged is always going to sting. Luckily, he's used to Cartman disparaging him.

"Yeah, 'cause yours is so nuanced and sophisticated," he replies, rolling his eyes.

Cartman shakes his head, obviously trying to fight off that sting too.

"There's nothing wrong with an appreciation for pop music, especially when it's this good. _Hounds of Love_ is in my top ten favourite albums."

"Is that what we're listening to now?"

"Nah, I've got her greatest hits on shuffle."

Kyle scoffs.

"Fuckin' normie..."

Kyle says this, though can't complain when it means they can listen to the more iconic songs. They get treated to _Cloudbusting_ and _Wow_ before the song Kyle has been waiting for comes on. The tinkling piano opening of _Wuthering Heights_ elicits a smile, and he has to shift in his seat to contain his whispered, off-key rendition. That is also something deeply personal to him.

Cartman snaps his head around, staring at him with wide, bright eyes and an even wider grin.

"What the fuck, you just wiggled!"

Kyle freezes.

"No, I didn't!"

Cartman laughs, nodding

"Yes, you did! You went..." he wriggles about, exaggerating what Kyle did massively.

Kyle rolls his eyes, face simmering.

"I love this song..."

Cartman sighs, quickly forgetting Kyle's embarrassing moment.

"Me too. The piano, and her voice..." he smiles, and does his own little, enthusiastic wiggle. "I think if I was ever gonna have a drag act, this would be one of my showstopping numbers. I'd kinda have a zombie bride thing going on, and all smoke furling around me, and I'd come on stage walking like a zombie, you know, with my arms like this." Cartman sticks his arms out in front of him, straight and stiff. "And then when she's all like, _'let me have it! let me graaaaab your soul away!'_ "

Kyle bursts out laughing, actually _snorts_ at Cartman's operatic, falsetto Kate Bush impression. It isn't half bad.

"Let me finish!" Cartman insists, though he's laughing too. "I'd drop to my knees, and reach out the audience - I'd probably fake cry - and then when the audience is going nuts, I'd throw my fake bouquet at them."

Kyle nods, he really isn't into drag but it does sound like a sight to behold.

"That's a lot of thought to put into a hypothetical scenario."

Complimenting Cartman is still something he's getting used to.

"Then maybe I'll make it a reality someday! Miss Bush is so overlooked by the drag community, I wanna give her a chance to shine."

Kyle chuckles. shaking his head.

"I don't doubt it. Your performances in women's clothes always had a certain... pizzazz."

Cartman laughs again, a short cackle.

"Oh my god, that's it, you have to be my agent! You just said 'pizzazz!'"

"I really don't think I'm qualified," he murmurs.

"What do agents really do, Kyle? They manage your diary and get ten percent off your profits. You would be paid to screw me over, that's like your favourite thing to do."

Kyle grins.

"Twenty-five percent."

"Huh?"

"Cut me twenty-five percent."

Cartman blinks, before he realises what game they're playing and a smile spreads across his face

"Fifteen."

"Twenty."

For some reason, Cartman's blinking again like he's struggling to keep up.

"Are you serious?"

The question catches Kyle off guard too, admittedly.

"How serious are you about becoming a drag queen?"

Cartman thinks about it for a moment, and sighs.

"It seems more fun than being a photographer..."

Kyle grins, straightening his shoulders and lifting his chin.

"Then I want a good deal. Twenty percent."

Cartman sighs, head falling back against the headrest.

"And the screwing over begins..."

Kyle chuckles, notes with disappointment that they're nearing the school, and that Stan is glaring at the both of them in the rear view mirror.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usually when I make a playlist for a fic, it's either something I end up keeping for myself or I share it at the end of the fic when it's all done. But since I feel like there are so many songs I wanna reference in chapter titles and such, I thought it would be fun if I shared the playlist I'm working on now, and kind of update it with songs as the story goes along? If you wanna take a listen to what I've got so far, the link is here ( https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=ALCdZRXpQWqFXTXZdS-Yzg). It is very short, but there will be more songs to come as I update the story. Thanks again for reading (and listening)!


	5. the ugly years of being a fool

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting this. This chapter was going to be lot longer, but I felt like it was too dense so I split it in two! So consider this part one, and part two will be out on Sunday! Title is a lyric from Teen Idle by MARINA. Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoy! I'd love to know your thoughts!

Kyle has felt this feeling before. This deflating, sobering feeling of certainty being pulled from under him, enthusiasm waning into exasperation. Disillusionment. It always hits Kyle like a train, snatches the air out of his lungs, and the buoyancy from his stride. It's even worse when that disillusionment rushes in like water in a sinking ship, sudden and intense. What seemed like a good idea, a necessary evil to further a greater cause, has revealed more about Kyle than Cartman. Namely, that Kyle likes spending time with him. That somewhere between fourth grade, and now, and possible demonic possession or soul selling aside, Cartman has transformed into someone whose company is more than just tolerable. Kyle doesn't know if he's changed, or Cartman has, or if anything has changed at all. In truth, Kyle knows Cartman must have had some redeeming qualities to make him stick around, though if he's even more honest, shaking him off was never easy. But it had been so long since they hung out alone together. Just the two of them. Kyle wonders if it all felt this easy before - this fun, this enjoyable. He dares to wonder if the aesthetics are to blame. It's a lot harder to feel contempt for amber eyes, or a perfect, wicked grin, and a lot harder to be pragmatic about the mission he and Kenny assigned themselves.

Kenny clearly doesn't feel the same way, as when Kyle meets him in the projection room for their first official meeting to discuss The Cartman Problem, he's grinning and hurriedly setting up seating.

"Alright, I hereby declare that the very first meeting of the Cartman's Body taskforce is in session!" Kenny exclaims, smacking the desk with such force that it makes him spin around in his chair a little. Kyle still doesn't fully understand the name of their 'taskforce' but according to Kenny there was a movie starring Megan Fox that's kinda like this, and Kyle supposes he can let him have name-giving duties. "I gotta say I'm surprised it's taken this long..."

Kyle's shoulders draw together, and he fidgets in his seat.

"Sorry, I've been busy..."

That's a lot easier to say than Kyle has been deliberately blowing them off. He told himself it was okay because he's doing his own research, and the total lack of gruesome discoveries in the past week have only aided his justification.

"Yeah, gathering all that good Cartman intel! What can you tell us?" Kenny asks, eyes bright and he leans forward with his hands clasped between his knees.

Kyle thinks there's a lot of things he could tell Kenny. He could tell him how walking home with Cartman and tutoring him has become the highlight of his day; That he's been going to his house after Debate, and basketball just to hang out with him; That Cartman keeps him up for a whole host of reasons every night, but that most unnerving of all is Kyle actually is afraid of him. He's afraid of what he can do, and how he feels, and the possibility that their theory could be true, and all the consequences that come with it.

"Not a whole lot? Murder-wise, it's been a quiet week."

Kenny nods, solemn considering the good news.

"That's a win. How are his tutoring sessions going? Found any more evidence?"

Kyle shrugs.

"He's actually getting better at calculus. He got an eighty on one of his quizzes."

Kenny arches an eyebrow. He's still swivelling a little in his chair, like a pendulum going back and forth.

"And the evidence?"

Kyle averts his gaze.

"I, um..." he sniffs, rubs at his nose, before looking up at Kenny's waiting face. "I haven't really looked."

Kenny's face falls. Kyle has seen Kenny look pissed off and exasperated before, but seeing his features contort into expressions of emotion is still a novelty.

"What?"

"It's hard!" Kyle snaps, throwing his hands up. His voice has gone all scratchy. "I'm never alone in his room for long enough, and I can't exactly bring it up in conversation-"

"If we don't get anywhere soon we're gonna have to take more drastic measures," Kenny cuts in, avoiding his gaze and shaking his head. "Haul him out to the middle of nowhere, tie him up, and interrogate him."

Kyle blinks at the notion.

"Sounds a little extreme."

Kenny's eyes are blown wide, and he throws his hands up too, in complete exasperation. He leans back in his chair, and it makes a small, creaking noise of displeasure.

"You're the one who said to do whatever it takes!" he sighs, leaning forward again and staring straight into Kyle's eyes. "What's up with you, man? You're acting like you don't wanna be here."

Kyle withers a little under Kenny's probing stare. He tries to deflect it by rolling his eyes.

"Sorry I'm not having fun discussing the possibility of one of our best friends being a serial killer."

Kenny scowls.

"Hey, don't fucking give me that when it seems like I'm the only taking this seriously. What's up? You're having second thoughts?"

Kyle sighs. If he was gonna admit it anywhere it may as well be here.

"I don't know... I don't know what I fucking believe anymore! I thought that when I offered to tutor him it would be like pulling teeth - because sitting in a classroom with Cartman every day since I was fucking four years old has felt like that - but... it's been fun?" Kyle winces as he says it. "And he listens, and makes me laugh, and we listen to Kate Bush, and..." he rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "God, he took these pictures of me-"

"Wait, dude. hold up," Kenny interrupts, holding up a hand and shifting in his seat. "When you say pictures..." he doesn't finish his sentence, only raises his eyebrows.

Kyle's brow furrows, before it dawns on him what Kenny is implying and the small room feels suddenly stuffy.

"God, no, not like that! No, no, he has this portfolio, and there are pictures of me in there. But not just pictures, Kenny, really amazing pictures... and sketches, and it's like..." he purses his lips. "Maybe he's being paying more attention to me than I ever realised? Maybe he sees something that even I don't see? It's like he's looked hard enough and found something special in me, something... beautiful..."

The room feels like a sauna now. He's been thinking about those photos a lot, but he hasn't talked about them to anybody, not even Cartman. What can he say? His brain is still processing them, and he doesn't even realise that was how he felt about them until the words came out of his mouth.

Kenny doesn't look particularly convinced, or even sympathetic. He looks wary, and knowing, and exasperated. Reactions Kyle can't be mad about.

"So you're calling this whole thing off because Cartman took a nice picture of you? Because he thinks you're cute? Kyle, I know your ego is a bit on the large side, but Jesus Christ..." Kenny sits back, and places his hands to his forehead. His thumbs are tucked under his earlobes.

"No, it's not because of that!" Kyle snaps, his mind is now whirring with Kenny's words too. "And what makes you think I have a big ego?"

Kenny gives him that eyes-lidded exasperated look again, but this time it's neutralised with a smile.

"You do have kind of a white knight, messiah complex. I mean, who organised a last supper at Whistlin' Willy's?"

Kyle scowls, cheeks burning.

"I was just trying to do something nice for my friends before I became broke for the rest of my life!"

"And how did Cartman repay you? He ratted you out! And now he's probably the most dangerous he's ever been, and you're gonna ignore that, because you've finally come to terms with the fact that when you're not screaming at each other you enjoy each other's company!"

Kyle's back thuds against the chai. He thought that was a secret, a revelation he kept to himself.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that if Cartman hadn't been such a raging bigot, and actually processed his feelings like a normal person you would be calling him your best friend."

Kyle frowns, prickling all over at Kenny's words.

"You shouldn't talk about him like he's not a normal person. He clearly has mental health issues, and implying that he's not normal is kind of offensive."

"See, you're defending him right now!"

"I'm not defending him! I'm defending people like him. Besides, not treating him like a normal person just lets him off the hook-"

"This is why I wanted to take the lead on this from the beginning," Kenny cuts in, resentment bubbling in his voice. "Cartman's my friend too, but I can detach myself. You can't. You're way too possessive, you always get way too close, and now look at you!" Suddenly, Kenny's out of his seat, gesturing to him reproachfully. "The Human Kite flew too close to Cartman's sun, and now his wings are fucking melting!"

"The Human Kite never had wings, dumbass!" Kyle cries, standing up and he's right in Kenny's face. He notices Kenny wince. "And I never stopped believing that Cartman could be responsible! I still believe it! Doesn't mean I can't be fucking bummed out that somebody who actually has a lot more to offer than I've ever given him credit for, could be doing these things!" He sighs, throwing his arms down. His voice wobbles. "So the joke's on me, I guess, right?"

Kenny's ragged breathing slows, his nostrils stop flaring. He studies Kyle, and purses his lips. A long sigh is released from his nose.

"Don't feel bad about being lured in by Cartman. Happens to the best of us." He folds his arms and leans against the desk. He looks at Kyle and gives him a small smile. "You should know..."

Kyle snickers, he supposes that's true. He's been here before. Getting too close, misreading the situation, letting hope get the better of him has always been part of the process with Cartman.

He doesn't join Kenny in leaning against the desk. Instead, he just places his hand on it, chews his lip as he considers offering the only promising information he has.

"I have been reading more of that occult book though?"

Kenny blinks, stands up straight.

"Anything useful?"

Kyle nods. He thinks reading it before he goes to bed isn't combating a restless night, especially when he spends most of the night joining the dots between the information he's reading and Cartman. His mind is never too far away from him.

"Yeah, it talks about... beautiful demons that visit people in the night and kill them, eat them to sustain their power."

Kenny's eyebrows twitch.

"Succubi? Like Jennifer?"

"Incubi," Kyle says with a sigh. "The male equivalent."

"Hmm..." Kenny nods. "It's a good call? But Cartman has been looking like shit lately."

"Yeah, he looks awful," Kyle murmurs. It's just another thing causing him concern.

Kenny is nodding to himself some more.

"I think that's enough for one day," he says. "Meeting adjourned?"

Kyle nods, grateful for that good, ol' Kenny intuitiveness.

He grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder, and Kenny rubs his palms on his jeans in silence. Kyle decides he wants to leave the room with some semblance of optimism about their mission, no matter how forced or tenuous.

"I'm supposed to be going over to his house tonight?" he says with a smile. "And I'm gonna be way more focused, I promise."

Kenny beams appreciatively.

"Sure." He claps Kyle on the shoulder. "Let me know if you find anything."

* * *

Kyle's next class is with Cartman. He thought that high school would have spared him from having too many interactions with him, as he was always a distraction in elementary school, but Kyle has had no such luck. It turns out that when he isn't ditching class, being a smartass, or having tantrums, he's actually pretty smart.

Cartman is already there when Kyle arrives to World Lit. He's sat at his desk, in a hard, invisible shell, scowling as he scrolls through his phone. Kenny's words about Cartman's appearance are still ringing in his mind, and it makes him appear even paler, duller. He has a couple of zits on his chin, and shadows under his eyes to rival Tweek's. He seems to sense Kyle approaching, and looks up from his phone with a smile Kyle is becoming all too familiar with, and fond of. It succeeds in making his eyes glimmer, but his lips are chapped and colourless.

"Hey, what's up?" he asks, voice brittle like he hasn't slept in days.

Kyle studies him warily as he takes his seat next to him. He's begrudged the alphabetic seating arrangement for years, now he's glad for it. At least he can keep an eye on Cartman.

"Not much... " his brows furrow, and he stares into Cartman's eyes. "Are you okay?"

Cartman's smile fades, and he shifts in his seat.

"Yeah, I'm great," he replies, before clearing his throat. "Why do you ask?"

Kyle knows that Cartman's smart enough to realise he looks dreadful right now. Sure, he looks like any stressed out student, but Kyle knows that his studies do not stress Cartman out. Besides, such a drastic transformation from the almost divine aura that has surrounded him lately to the haggard person sat beside him now must be concerning.

"Because you look..."

"Pale? Skinny?" he cuts in sharply. "That's you pretty much every day, Kyle, but I don't make a big deal out of it."

Kyle scowls, but won't stop pressing the issue. Typical Cartman deflection.

"I was gonna say you look run down..." he's turned so his whole body is facing Cartman. He shuffles forward in his seat. "Have you eaten?"

God, he really is his mother's son.

Cartman's jaw tightens uncomfortably, and he's trying to avoid eye contact with Kyle. He rolls his eyes and sighs.

"No, mom, I have not eaten. My appetite's shot."

"I think eating would make you feel better."

Cartman tilts his head to look at Kyle, bored and exasperated.

"It really wouldn't."

A long, frustrated breath escapes from Kyle's nose, and he places his backpack on his desk.

"I have an energy bar in my bag," he says as he rummages around. "I don't know what superfood, protein diet you're on but I'm pretty sure an energy bar isn't gonna set you back. Will you just eat it?"

Cartman's nose wrinkles as he studies the energy bar Kyle is offering him. He plucks it out of Kyle's grip, and he wonders if Cartman is carefully unwrapping the energy bar purely because he knows his stare is fixed on it. He takes a slow bite, slower than the time Kyle convinced him to eat a chip, but he chews it like it physically hurts to have it in his mouth, his face is creased.

"This is disgusting," he says around the food in his mouth.

"Keep eating," Kyle insists, only looking away when their teacher walks in.

He doesn't pay attention for most of class. Cartman is as distracting as ever, even when he has made no attempts to talk to Kyle. He just observes Cartman's glazed over expression, watches him yawn, and run a tired hand over his face. Kyle doesn't know if he's exhausted or woozy, and he doesn't even know if Cartman realises he's watching him because he feels like he would have commented on that by now, or at least caught his eye.

Still, it takes Kyle by surprise when Cartman vomits on his desk. It's clear, watery, but Kyle can detect chunks of the energy bar in there. Everyone turns around and Mrs Adams stops speaking at the sound of Cartman retching, at the splash. Cartman seems unaware of the attention at first, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, and coughing. His chest is heaving, and Kyle feels embarrassed for him. He withers at the confused looks and murmurings.

"Eric, are you alright?" Mrs Adams asks.

Cartman glares at her.

"Do I look alright?"

Kyle jumps out of his seat before he can think about it.

"Mrs Adams, can I take him to the nurses office please?"

She blinks, before glancing between the two of them and nodding.

"Fine, I'll write you both a hall pass," she says, reaching in her desk for two and writing them out. "Better call the janitor too..."

Cartman is still slumped in his desk, staring at the pool of vomit with listless eyes. Kyle grimaces at the acrid scent, but gives Cartman's arm a tug.

"Come on..." he says, prompting him to his feet.

Kyle presses his lips together and doesn't look at his classmates as he leads Cartman to the front of the class. Mrs Adams hands them both a hall pass and looks more irritated than concerned.

"Thank you..." Kyle says, taking both their passes.

Out in the hall, Cartman shrugs his arm away from Kyle's grip but keeps close, stumbling beside him. Kyle frowns.

"Cartman, I'm really sorry-"

"Yeah, you should be! It was your fucking fault!"

As always, indignation quickly replaces guilt when it comes to Cartman.

"Dude, it was an energy bar! Maybe if your eating habits weren't more screwed up than usual you would've been able to keep it down!"

Cartman gives him a weak, sardonic smile.

"You're a better teacher than you are a nurse, you know that?" He puts a hand to his stomach, and his shoulders sag. "I feel like I'm gonna throw up again..."

"Come on. Bathroom," Kyle says, pushing Cartman in the direction of the boys' bathroom.

Cartman rushes ahead of Kyle but he still follows him into the stall. He collapses to his knees and vomits some more. The acoustics of the toilet bowl make his retching sound even louder. His shoulders are drawn up, raised like hackles, and it looks like he wants to climb into the toilet. Kyle watches with a frown before he kneels down beside him. It's all too reminiscent of when he threw up in the bathroom, his suspicions powerful and unimaginable enough that they needed to be purged from his system. He remembers Stan beside him, stroking him, murmuring words of comfort. He doesn't know if he can do that with Cartman, but he still kneels beside him. He still wants to be there.

He's bleary-eyed and panting when he's finished, a long line of saliva and vomit hanging from his lips. He rests his elbow on the toilet seat and slides his hand into his hair. Kyle's fingers flex, desperate to do something.

"Here..." he says ripping off some toilet paper and without another word, directs Cartman's face towards him and starts wiping his mouth.

When it comes to bodily fluids, Kyle does have a weak stomach, but he's used to doing this. He's used to placing a band-aid on his brother's bruises, or comforting him when he had a nightmare. Ike is too big for those things now, but Kyle still remembers how to do them. He remembers how to be nurturing and protective. But he's not used to Cartman being so compliant. He just stares at him with hazy eyes, and his body seems so pliable, like he's open to Kyle doing whatever he wants with it, which is a strange thought that he discards immediately.

Then he smiles, a wide, elastic, almost drunk smile. It's too funny for Kyle not to smile too.

Cartman clears his throat.

"I take back what I said about your bedside manner. It's actually pretty good."

"I'm used to it," Kyle murmurs as he wipes Cartman's chin.

"Me doing gross shit?" he grins.

Kyle smiles again.

"I was thinking more about looking after my brother, but yeah, that works too..."

They both chuckle softly.

"You wanna take care of me, Kyle?" Cartman asks. It would have been goading. It _should_ have been goading. It should have been Cartman ripping on him, but it sounds like a genuine question.

A mumbled, mindless question, but a question nonetheless.

Kyle's face burns.

"Well... in this instance... yeah, I do," he says. He straightens his shoulders, telling himself he has no reason to be embarrassed. "You're my friend."

Cartman snickers, rueful but also derisive.

"Yeah... friends..."

Before Kyle can ask him what he means by that comment, Cartman takes the words out of his mouth by wrapping his fingers around Kyle's wrist. The wrist that Kyle is holding up to his face, maybe the wrist that Cartman held when they both had their hands in the bowl of Doritos. Kyle can't remember exactly, but he remembers how it felt. He remembers Cartman's phantom touch, how surprised he was that Cartman could even be that gentle. He remembers how his fingertips brushed against his skin like a paintbrush to canvas, considerate and thoughtful. He remembers how with small, fleeting patterns it felt like Cartman was trying to tell him something, that he was _asking_ for something. Kyle still has no clue what that was, but the possibilities frightened him.

His mind is racing with so many thoughts, and he's so nervous about what Cartman may be trying to ask here and now, that he doesn't notice that Cartman has closed his eyes and leaned forward until he's centimetres away from his lips.

Kyle freezes, and horrified, turns his head away.

"No!" he exclaims. He takes a shaky breath and speaks softer. "No, don't..."

Cartman backs away, but still has a hold on his wrist.

"Shit, sorry, I didn't realise... my breath probably reeks right now, huh?" he says with a chuckle. Kyle looks at him and winces. He looks so naive, so... hopeful. "I think I have a mint in my-"

Kyle cuts him off by shaking his head.

"No, Cartman, it's not that I just... I don't..." Kyle has to stop to collect himself. This is surreal, and he can hardly breathe. He never expected this to happen. "I-I-I don't like you in that way."

Kyle knows that expression. The cracks of disillusion on Cartman's face are painful to see. He releases Kyle's wrist, and his back hits the stall with a loud thud.

"You're... you're seriously?"

Kyle nods, watches Cartman run a hand over his mouth and shake his head, and as he watches, the more Cartman's puzzlement agitates him. He doesn't think he's entirely to blame for Cartman's disappointment. How can he be? Kyle didn't even know that Cartman wanted this from him. It seems unfair of Cartman to have had such high expectations, that Kyle was never going to meet.

"I don't see why that should come as such a surprise," he snaps.

Cartman looks at him, a devastated glare.

"Yeah, well, you wouldn't, would you?" he asks, narrowing his eyes.

Kyle blinks, brows furrowing with indignation.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That we're both fucking idiots. Forget about tonight," he says, getting to his feet and not sparing Kyle another glance as he storms out of the stall.

This is all too familiar to Kyle, and he gets up, marching out of the stall behind him.

"Cartman!" he calls, following him out into the hall. "Cartman, where are you going?"

Cartman glares at him over his shoulder.

"Home!"

It stops Kyle in his tracks.

"What? No! No, you need to go to the nurses office-"

"Stop telling me what to fucking do!" Cartman cries, turning around. "You don't get to tell me what to do!"

Kyle scowls, and he feels his body shaking with rage.

"Just because I turned you down you're not gonna go to the nurses office? God, you really are a stubborn, self-destructive asshole!"

Cartman frowns, dark and bruised, and when he storms back over to Kyle, his gut clenches with fear. He's near seething when he's stood in front of him.

"If you know I'm gonna self-destruct, then why don't you just fuck off and leave me alone?"

Cartman has turned around and is storming off again.

"At least let me walk you home! You can't go alone with everything that's going on-"

He stops again, and Kyle shuts up because he almost expects Cartman to declare that he's onto him, and to cut the crap.

"Yeah, because your weedy ass is gonna protect us from a serial killer. Maybe you can nag him into a self-righteous coma. Just fuck off, Kyle."

"Fine!" Kyle yells after him, watching him walk away. "I was only trying to help you, you ungrateful bastard! I was trying to let you down gently!"

Cartman doesn't respond with words, just simply flips his middle finger over his shoulder. Kyle stares after him, still shaking, still seething. He's always known Cartman has been a sore loser, and usually Kyle reveals in his victories. But this doesn't feel like a victory at all.

* * *

_Eric doesn't know how long he has been lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He figures time must evaporate when you're dying. Because he really does feel like that's what is happening right now. Sure, it does feel a little different to the other brushes with death he's had. It feels different to being shot in the chest, crashing a NASCAR, or being beaten to a pulp by PC Principal. The former filled him with paralysing adrenaline, it all happened so quickly. The latter was more gradual, like being pummelled into unconsciousness. This just feels painfully slow, like his body is rotting without having the decency to lose consciousness first. He supposes his deterioration started when Kyle offered to tutor him. After that first intense, promising evening he decided to focus all his energy into time spent with Kyle. He could stave off his hunger pangs, ignore them, suppress them if he was finally getting somewhere with him. He could be a fucking martyr but turns out it was all for naught. He's destroyed himself for Kyle, humiliated himself in front of him, and not even that's enough._

_Whatever, being a martyr is fucking stupid, anyway._

_He doesn't even know how he managed to make it home, a whole lot of stumbling he assumes. Normally, when he's this furious he trashes his room, throws things around, breaks a few things he knows he won't miss. But he doesn't have the energy for that. So he just crashed on his bed and has been there ever since. Yeah, he cried a little, and he thinks he yelled at his mom when she begged him to come downstairs for dinner. He's been able to keep up the excuses as to why he hasn't been eating, and because he's been looking so great his mom hasn't questioned it. That doesn't wash anymore._

_He can't believe that this may be how he dies. His hollowed out body his tomb, starved of Kyle's affection. He wonders if dying people are always this melodramatic. His thoughts are slipping away from him, hovering ghosts in the distance beckoning him over to the other side._

_"Hello, Eric."_

_He lifts his head to see Damien standing at the foot of the bed. He glows, incandescent, in the darkness of his bedroom._

_Eric frowns, his body droops. He's not in the mood for this. He sits up on his elbows._

_"You, again?"_

_Damien's face is expressionless, though Eric doesn't think he's trying to hide something. Very little seems to offend him._

_"Yes. Me again." Damien tilts his head, showing a slither of concern. "You don't look so good."_

_Eric rolls his eyes._

_"So I've heard..."_

_"You know why you feel so awful, don't you? You haven't been eating."_

_Eric fidgets, fiddles with the creases in his sheets._

_"I've been busy," he murmurs._

_"Too busy to eat? These new looks of yours have a ferocious appetite, Eric, you can't afford to neglect it."_

_"Doesn't make a fucking difference, anyway," Eric replies moodily. He even pouts. "Kyle doesn't want me..." he shakes his head, and all of his angry, bitter, despairing thoughts come bubbling to the surface. He sits up on his knees. "I can't fucking believe him! I do all this for him, I save his life..." Eric blinks, raises his eyebrow. "You know I saved his life, don't you?"_

_Damien sighs, as if they've had this conversation a million times._

_"Yes, in San Francisco... and Washington. I'm aware."_

_"Exactly! I do all that for him, I sell my soul, I fucking starve myself for him because I don't... I don't wanna keep doing this!" he cries. "I don't wanna keep hooking up with random people just to feed this, not when we were spending so much time together. It felt wrong, like cheating, but... we were never together. We're never going to be together. So what's the fucking point anymore?" he drops his head into his hands._

_"Kyle may be a lost cause, but your body is screaming at you, Eric. You can't go on like this. You may have given up your soul for him, but.. you can't let this beautiful, incredible body perish because he's not interested."_

_"What the... " Eric looks up from his hands, blinking at Damien, trying to scrutinise his irritatingly blank face. "Shit, do you think I'm hot?"_

_Damien swallows, his face twitches. Eric has no idea what it means. If it means anything at all._

_"Of course you're hot. You asked me to make you hot, and so I did."_

_Eric smiles. His teeth graze his lip in contemplation._

_"Yeah I know, but... do you want me?"_

_Damien doesn't respond, and Eric watches his face as he crawls over to him, waiting for a reaction but Damien seems just as patient. He's watching Eric like he knew this would happen, and he's just waiting for it to be over with. It still doesn't stop Eric from sitting up on his knees, cradling his jaw, and leaning forward to brush his lips against Damien's._

_It's definitely the most exciting kiss he's had lately. Eric supposes it's thrilling getting to kiss someone, something, so other-worldly. But Damien's lips feel like a human's. Just as warm, just as soft, neither too dry or too wet. Eric thinks maybe he's liking this more because he's unsure whether Damien wants him, or is into him at all. It's a power trip for sure, enthusiastically making out with someone_ _who's_ _so blinded by their attraction that they'll do anything you say, but there's a different kind of thrill to be had in kissing someone so aloof, so seemingly uninterested. It's a challenge, and Eric can't resist those. Especially if they come in a redheaded, self-righteous package. Damien only really reacts to show Eric he's there, sliding his lips across Eric's in acknowledgement, the most disinterested test to see if this is what he wants._

_They part soon enough, and the results are pretty conclusive. They both know that this is not what they want, and Eric is unsure why he even did it in the first place._

_"Mortals don't really do it for me..." Damien explains, and it's so matter-of-fact that it's hard for Eric to be embarrassed. He looks into Eric's eyes and his voice is a lot sterner when he says, "and I'm not going to be second prize to one."_

_Eric nods, but his shoulders droop and his head bows._

_"It's better than not even placing," he mutters, his gaze wandering away._

_He looks at Damien when he places a hand to his cheek, and it's like his palm is filled with a charge that seeps into Eric's skin. It makes his flesh prickle, and even if he doesn't feel as alert and lively as he did before, his veins are beginning to hum with a low wave of energy._

_"Kyle has made you feel helpless. But you're not. I gave you a powerful gift, Eric. Don't let it go to ruin. You need to eat.. show Kyle what he's missing."_

_His words are like a spell to bring Eric back to life. He nods, and Damien kisses his forehead._

_"You'll be fine, Eric," he whispers, before vanishing as always._

_Eric watches the black smoke disappear, before climbing off his bed and heading for the bathroom, determined to put Damien's words into action. Kyle may not want him, and when he thinks about that it tears his heart apart a little more each time, but he's much more powerful than he was before. He thought he couldn't live without Kyle, but he can. Without Kyle he can be indestructible, invincible, and he's going to prove it._

_Damien's reviving words and a shower really do help him feel better, focus his thoughts on sating his appetite. Usually he hooks up with a classmate he's been texting, but the only person he's been texting is Kyle. On further inspection, he hasn't text_ _him at all tonight. Fuck him. He figures that Ruffians may be the best place for a quick hook-up. There's sure to be someone in there looking for a good time with a hot, young guy like himself, right?_

_When he sits down in front of his bedroom mirror, towel wrapped around his waist and hair still wet, he realises that he doesn't look like a hot, young guy at all. His skin is still dull, with sore, pink zits blossoming on his chin, his face is gaunt. He reaches for his make-up bag and hides it all, the pimples, the dullness, the disillusionment, with a coat of foundation._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to give a shoutout to my friend polarspicecap who coined the nickname 'Cartman's Body' for this fic, and also thank her for all the song recs she has given me this week! Thank you, dude! Playlist updated (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=GvM8TCpBTGegbb4dRmf7ew)
> 
> Songs added:
> 
> When I See You - The Moog  
> Vampire Smile - Kyla la Grange  
> Paper Bag - Fiona Apple  
> Teen Idle - MARINA


	6. I wanna be what my body wants me to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am probably gonna place the biggest warning I have ever placed on a fic ever for this chapter because it gets dark, guys. As well as the usual blood and gore, this chapter contains, well, dubcon and sexual scenes between Eric and an adult. I very much understand if this is triggering or upsetting for people, and if you need to skip this chapter that is totally okay. Please proceed with caution. I'm also gonna put a smaller warning for mentions of drug use. Title chapter is a lyric from Townie by Mitski. I hope you guys enjoy this as much as it is possible to, and I very much thank you for reading. As always, love to know your thoughts.

* * *

Eric remembers Ruffians when it was a rather poky bar, certainly not a novelty in South Park, but it was the very first gay bar to open in town. But then the owner bought the building next door and expanded, turning it into the very first gay nightclub in South Park, and coincidentally, the only club at all. He's surprised at the number of people lining up to get in on a weekday evening, but he doesn't join them in fear of being turned away. He doesn't have a fake ID but he heard Ike has been making them. God knows Kyle would have enough to say about that, but he's not thinking about Kyle tonight.

Eric slips into the alley, wrinkling his nose at the stench of garbage and urine, heading for the staff entrance. He became familiar with the layout of Ruffians long ago. He always had to come and drag Cupid Me away from loitering around the bathroom, trying to catch a glimpse of someone having a good time at the gloryhole. Sometimes Eric would linger in another stall, curled up on the toilet and listen with a burning face, and a racing heart, to the moans he could hear on the other side of the wall. He was still lying to Cupid Me's face when he insisted he wasn't gay, but hearing those muffled, throaty moans always stole his breath. Often his mind would wander to Kyle, to if they could do that when they were old enough, if he would let him. Eric still hasn't officially come out, but as soon as he acknowledged the fact that he was gay, Cupid Me vanished. Eric was glad in some ways, he teased him about Kyle way too much.

When he was sat in that toilet stall, Eric would also hear the thump of the music, the bass pounding against the walls, and the hum of countless murmured conversations, and he would imagine what it was like to be at that bar, on that dancefloor. He feels like a kid again when he sees it for the first time, a world he could only ever imagine. The room is drenched in a dark, electric blue hue, and relentless flashing lights illuminate the writhing, crowded dancefloor. His throat shrinks when he considers how this is so different to what he's used to, a whole new ball game. This isn't hooking up with a classmate he's known forever in the back of his truck, these are strangers, older men, some of whom are just as attractive, if not more attractive than him. Would they even go for him? Would they be impressed? Eric tries to recall Damien's words over the blaring music. His body is gorgeous, his body is powerful, his body was gifted by someone who exists beyond the realms of humanity. He's a fucking god among mortals, more than human. He has nothing to be afraid of. They should all be afraid of him.

With that thought in mind, he makes his way to the busy bar. While he waits, he studies the room, tries to catch someone's eye and plans his approach. Everyone around him is either jostling, or bouncing to the relentless beat, and it's hard for Eric not to join in a little. When he finally gets to the bar, a harried, handsome bartender is waiting to take his order.

"Can I get a beer?" Eric asks, cringing a little because he thinks his unsophisticated choice is too revealing of his age.

The bartender nods, not seeming to care.

"Can I see your ID?"

Eric blinks, prickling with dread and further embarrassment. He didn't think he would be asked for his ID when he got in the club.

"Huh?"

The bartender sighs, exasperated.

"Can I see your ID please?"

"Uh-"

"It's on me!"

Eric is interrupted by a stranger's voice, and when he follows the sound he has to lean against the bar to stop himself stumbling in shock. Fuck, this guy looks a lot like Kyle. An older Kyle, Eric thinks he must be in his late twenties, possibly early thirties. He's also a better dressed, better looking Kyle too. His hair is cropped and curly, a browner shade of copper, and unlike Kyle, he's actually figured out how to style it. He has stubble that is cut into neat, sharp lines along his jawline and cheekbones, and his nose is more Owen-Wilson-crooked, than bumpy. He shoots Eric a cool, amused smile. He leans in close.

"What were you having?"

"Um..." Eric purses his lips. He's even more embarrassed about ordering a beer. "Whatever you're having!"

Kyle look-alike grins at him before turning to the bartender.

"Two rum and cokes, please! On my tab!"

"What's the name?"

"Liam Holmes!"

Eric just stares, slack-jawed and eyes wide with disbelief. A guy is actually buying a drink for him. Not only that, a gorgeous, well-dressed guy. Maybe these are the types of guys he needs to be seeking out, and not just for eating, but for dating too. They would look great together. A beautiful version of himself deserves a beautiful version of Kyle, one that actually wants him and isn't afraid to show it.

Kyle look-alike - Liam - gives his shoulder a nudge. Eric blinks, places his hand to the spot he just elbowed, and smiles.

"Aren't you gonna say thank you?"

"Oh, uh, thanks!" He hopes the lights don't illuminate his flushed cheeks. He has to play it cool. "Liam, right?"

Liam's smile widens.

"No problem..." he raises his eyebrows, leaving a gap for Eric to give his name.

"Eric!"

Liam nods. He leans in closer, speaking directly into his ear. "Nice to meet you, Eric!"

Eric grins, and he turns his head so he can speak into Liam's ear too.

"Yeah, you too!"

The bartender slides them their drinks, and Liam raises his glass to him in acknowledgement.

"Thank you." He looks at Eric, tongue prodding at his bottom lip as he rakes his gaze over him. Eric shivers. "You haven't got friends to be getting back to?"

Eric shakes his head.

"No!" he leans in close to reply, before immediately worrying he sounded too eager. "No, I'm here alone!"

Liam chuckles.

"Me too! Come on..." he jerks his head in the direction of a booth, and Eric is smiling as he follows him.

"So how old are you, really?" Liam asks as they slide into their seats.

Eric freezes, the cold glass sticking to his suddenly sweaty palm.

"Huh?"

"The look on your face when he asked you for your ID! It kinda gave you away!"

Eric takes a deep, relieved sigh before joining Liam.

"Oh, uh, I'm twenty!"

"I've never seen you come here before!"

"My parents live here, I'm just visiting!"

It's always been easy to lie, but it's even easier when you can't see their face, mouth inches away from their ear.

"Where are you visiting from?"

"Providence! I go to school there!" This isn't a lie, simply alteration of facts. Eric does want to go to school there. "Rhode Island School of Design!"

Liam nods, and Eric wonders if he's impressed.

"And what do you do there, Eric?"

"Photography!"

Liam pulls back, and he's studying Eric's face. When they're so close, it feels like all his handsome features are blurring into one.

"What?" Eric asks, wilting under his scrutinising stare.

Liam grins, and leans in again.

"I thought you'd be on the other side of the camera!"

Eric kind of likes the cheesy line, but he likes Liam's hand running up the inside of his thigh even more.

"That's fucking lame, man!" he replies, even though his brain feels like it's short-circuiting with every soft press of Liam's fingers against the denim. "You can do better than that!"

Liam laughs.

"No, I can't! You're the first person I wanted to buy a drink for tonight!"

Liam's hand has moved higher, and Eric has to catch his breath when that one action is coupled with his compliment. Before he melts into a swooning puddle he has to gain control. He came here to eat, not find an inappropriate boyfriend, but he wonders if he could have both, just for tonight.

"So... um... what do you do?"

"I'm a party planner! But, I also, uh..."

Eric watches Liam's free hand, following it to his jeans pocket. He reveals a small tab of ecstasy pills. Eric's eyes widen. Of course he's used to people taking drugs around him. His mom spent the early years of his childhood with a crack problem, he lives in a state where marijuana is legal, and he has had numerous slumber parties on a pot farm, but he's still in high school. The opportunity to get high, and not on Tegridy Farms branded weed, is still thrilling.

He grins.

"You must throw some party!"

Liam looks down at the pills in his pocket and smiles.

"Yeah, I guess I do!"

"But why do you need to do that?"

"I don't _need_ to do it! I just have an expensive lifestyle! I've gotta maintain it somehow! Do you want some?"

Eric is very tempted, and he has a lot to lose if he says no. Besides, he spent most of the day feeling depressed, he feels like he deserves a little pill to make him feel euphoric.

"How much do I have to pay?"

Liam leans in even closer, so his lips are brushing against the shell of Eric's ear. His hot breath rouses goosebumps on his skin.

"For you, it's free..." he says. His hand is on Eric's leg again, higher than before, and Eric chokes on a gasp when he squeezes.

He grins, making his decision. He chuckles as he pulls back from Liam.

"You gotta do it with me!"

"Okay..." Liam replies, grinning too.

"You first!" Eric insists, because he's never done ecstasy before and although he feels like it's pretty straightforward he doesn't want to take the lead, and potentially embarrass himself.

He watches, fascinated, as Liam pops the pill, washes it down with his rum and coke. He snickers, and doesn't hesitate when Liam offers him one.

He copies Liam exactly, washing the pill down with his drink even though the bitter, foreign taste mixed with alcohol makes him gag. It's worth it, Liam is smiling at him like he's the only person in the room. He already said he was the only person in here worth noticing.

"Do you wanna dance?"

Eric nods, even though his head feels like it's swimming already.

Eric doesn't do dancing. Not really, not since he was a little kid and his dances were spontaneous, usually in celebration, usually in emphasis of a brag. He doesn't dance, except for tonight. Tonight, he stepped foot on the dancefloor and hasn't stopped moving, bouncing and spinning around and not caring about his rhythm, or if he's dancing to the beat. He's dizzy, but the word truly feels like it's revolving around him. The world just happens to be blurry, and beautiful, and filled with music with crawls into his skin and seeps into his veins. He doesn't even have to open his eyes, he can see everything behind his lids, flickering with colour and light. But when he does blink his eyes open, he sees Liam's gorgeous, grinning face. He's like the tether to this lucid world, keeping Eric's problems at bay. Why stop and contemplate why someone doesn't love you when you could just dance all night? When you can sweat all your problems out while Gala sings of being free from desire, with mind and senses purified. Eric has spent a lot of hours being emo over Kyle, listening to songs in his room that strike a painful chord, but no music was resonated more with him than the music he's danced to tonight, and he can't even remember most of the lyrics.

The song comes to an end, melting into a trance remix of _Can't Get You Out of My Head_. Eric feels pummelled by the deep, thumping bass but he doesn't care. His cheeks are aching he's smiling so hard, jaw tightening uncontrollably but he guesses that's just what a big grin feels like. He starts mouthing along to the words.

_"I just can't get you out of my head, boy, your loving is all I think about..."_

When he opens his eyes, he sees Kyle, draped in shadow and illuminated by intermittent, flashing lights. Eric blinks, mouth falling open, but he's not confused. He's not shocked, or even angry. He's happy he's there, looking cooler, and more confident than Eric has ever seen him. His hair looks great, his clothes look great, he's grinning at Eric in the way he has only ever dreamed about. Like he wants him, like he wants to make a move. Eric just smiles, dazed and inviting.

He feels a hand at his waist, and even though Kyle has never touched him there he can tell it's not Kyle's fingers splayed at his back, or his palm pressed against him. It still steadies him, and when Liam's hand moves slowly downward it still has him prickling all over. Eric closes his eyes when Liam's hand slides up his neck to cradle his jaw. He rolls his neck, keening to the touch, and subsequently to his mouth. Eric is so eager to return the kiss that he almost falls into him, grasping his shirt, and opening his mouth so Liam can shove his tongue in. He gives Eric's ass a squeeze and the line between reality, Liam, fantasy, and Kyle is becoming so blurred that Eric wants to seize and grip the things that will make his fantasises more tactile. His hands move from Liam's shirt to his hair, sliding his fingers into his curls. They crunch with product and sweat as Eric grips them, and he smushes their face together so he can feel the crooked bridge of Liam's nose pressed against his. It's without a doubt the best kiss Eric has ever had; tongues grappling, hands everywhere, and his body and mind coated in a sweet, euphoric film.

* * *

Before Eric knows it, he's pressed up against the living room wall in Liam's apartment. He lives on the upper floor of a CtPaTown complex, a place Eric never thought he'd be in a million years. It barely feels like a second has passed since they were kissing in the club, or like he's moved at all, but the scenery is forever changing. The blue-tinged darkness of the club, the starry streets, and now Liam's fancy apartment. Eric's body is burning with anticipation, and arousal, and sweat. His clothes are sticking to him and his make-up has ran, but Liam just keeps grinning at him, just keeps kissing, just keeps groping. Eric can feel Liam's boner pressing up against his leg as they make out, so he really must not care at all.

When they come up for air, Eric is panting, his breathing laboured. Liam rakes his gaze over him, his hand resting beside Eric's head.

"You feeling alright?"

Eric smiles, and nods, stumbling into a sloppy kiss and shoving his hand between their bodies, to show just how alright he is as he gropes at Liam's bulge. Liam's lips slide off of Eric as he gasps against his hot cheek. Eric watches his body stiffen and arch with deep concentration, trying to gauge his reaction. He's filled with relief when Liam offers him a lazy, impressed smile and kisses him again. Liam's hand moves from the wall and into Eric's hair, tugging at a handful and pushing him down. Eric tries to kiss his neck, but only succeeds in clumsy, awkward-angled kisses which only seem to make Liam press down harder on his head.

"What..." Eric erupts in giggles, the only way he seems able to communicate confusion right now. "What are you doing..."

Liam is looking at him with a small smile, and lidded, dark eyes.

"I want you on your knees..." he says, in a voice so husky that Eric has to obey.

Eric drops to his knees, but his stomach clenches when he looks up at Liam. He tries to find reassurance in his grin.

"Yeah, that's better..."

Eric smiles weakly, only finding mild relief in his approval. That clenching feeling travels up his chest and into his throat when he's inches away from the prominent bulge in Liam's jeans. Automatically, he unbuttons them, pulling down his fly with trembling hands that he is unsure are shaking because of the drugs, or the nerves. His cock pops out of his boxers, and he's only just realising how intimidating an erect cock so close to his face is. He gulps, trying not to look up at Liam as he holds it, traces a vein curiously with his thumb. It's only when Liam chuckles that Eric remembers his dick is very much attached to his body, and he can feel everything he's doing. It's also then he remembers that for all his flirtatiousness with Clyde, Red, Annie, and even Kyle, for all his making out and dry-humping in the back of his truck, he is actually pretty sexually inexperienced. He's never had so much as a handjob before.

"Go on..." Liam says softly, pushing Eric's head closer to his dick.

His eyes widen, and he decides it's just best to put as much in his mouth as he can. He starts to suck. Literally. His mouth tightens around Liam's cock and he starts sucking at it like a candy. He doesn't know if he's supposed to be moving his head more, his mouth and tongue sliding up and down and creating some pleasurable fiction, but it's difficult. Too many things to focus on at once. Even though his cock is still hard, it feels strangely limp in his mouth, and Liam isn't even reacting. Not a twitch of his hips, or his dick, he's not even making a sound. He just keeps his palm pressed to Eric's head. He grips his hair and with a grunt, pushes Eric's face closer to his crotch. Eric starts to bob his head and hope for the best, but he feels like his teeth are grazing against Liam's dick more than his tongue or his lips. He starts to suck harder and faster in the hopes that it will make Liam's grip loosen on his hair, but he only tugs harder when Eric's teeth scrape against his cock. He seethes.

"Ow, careful!"

Eric pulls back, scowling, and embarrassed.

"Quit pushing down on my head then, asshole!"

Liam doesn't snap back, he just tugs at Eric's hair hard enough to make him wince, to pull him up off the floor a little. He pulls Eric's head back so his throat is exposed, and he's looking at Liam with mouth agape and almost bulging eyes.

"You haven't done this before, have you?"

Eric manages to shake his head.

The corner of Liam's mouth tugs upwards, delighted. He looks over at his couch.

"Come on..." he says, releasing Eric's hair and leading him over to the couch by his wrist instead.

"Sit."

Eric sits, wondering where his smartass comments have gone. Maybe ecstasy shuts off that part of his brain. He watches as Liam moves his coffee table back, and, intrigued, spreads his legs when Liam gets on his knees in front of him. He's kneeling in between his thighs.

"I'm gonna give you a few pointers, okay?"

Eric nods, he can't formulate any response at all. He can't believe this is it; his very first blowjob. With steady hands, Liam unzips Eric's fly, and pulls out his half-hard cock. Eric gasps at the sight, at the feeling, of somebody holding his naked dick. Liam just smiles, unfazed, and starts jerking him off at the base in short, quick motions. Eric moans, his hips bucking to receive his hand.

"You don't have to do this," Liam explains, his eyes on Eric's dick the whole time. "You can get them hard in your mouth, if you want..." he smiles. "But you seem like someone who likes to be teased..."

Ericnods, though he's unsure that he is.

 _"Uh-huh..."_ he moans, eyes closing and head falling back.

"You don't have to start sucking straight away. You can build up to it like this..."

Liam drags his tongue up Eric's shaft, flat, slow, and deliberate. Eric squeezes his eyes shut at the hot, wet sensation, but tries to open them so he can look at what Liam is doing. He rubs the head of his cock against his tongue, and it has Eric writhing and fidgeting uncontrollably. He can't keep his eyes open.

"How does that feel?"

" _Unnh... good..."_ Eric manages to say while Liam is still focusing on the head.

"And when I say suck, I say it figuratively," he continues, voice gravelly. He's stopped rubbing his tongue there, but his hot breath is still brushing against sensitive skin when he talks. "It's all about head action, and your tongue. Never your teeth. In fact, pretend you don't have teeth."

Eric snorts, and purses his lips into a thin line as if that disguises his teeth.

Liam chuckles.

"Yeah, just like that..."

He takes Eric's cock into his mouth, and his sharp, high gasp stings his chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, because when he looks at a headful of curly, red hair bobbing in his lap he can pretend it's Kyle. But his eyes are burning with the effort, dying to slip shut, and when he finally relents he still imagines this is Kyle's hot, talented mouth on him. He imagines that it really was Kyle he was dancing with in the club, carefree, and happy, happy enough that they could make out with each other on a crowded dancefloor and not give a fuck. His thoughts are flickering butterflies, hard to catch in the dark, and as soon as he grasps them they disappear, but they don't stop fluttering past him.

He thinks about how he should have kissed Kyle during that first evening of tutoring when he had the chance, and he imagines he did. He imagines pulling Kyle by his wrist, to his lips, crashing onto his bed. He imagines all the hours they could have spent making out this week, if by the end of it all they would have graduated to doing something like this. He wishes Kyle would have let him kiss him in the bathroom stall this morning, and it's crazy that not even 24 hours have passed since then.

He thinks about his eyes. A shrewd, ardent green-blue.

He thinks about his hair.

His nose.

His mouth.

His _mouth._

 _His mouth his mouth his mouth_ -

Eric has been taking big, sharp, gasping breaths while Liam sucked him off, but he cums with a long, broken shout. He grips a cushion by the side of him, and his hips lift off the couch slightly as Liam helps him ride out his orgasm with slow, indulgent sucks.

His eyes are still closed, not ready to part from that fantasy yet. The spell is broken by Liam's voice.

"So let's try this again, huh?"

Eric opens his eyes to see Liam stood in front of him, already taking his cock out of his pants. Eric feels disorientated, and drained now he's returning to reality, not sure if he has it in him to do this, but he nods anyway. He's expecting to get down on his knees in front of him, but blinks as Liam sits down beside him and spreads his legs.

Okay, now he wants him on his knees.

Eric slinks off the couch and shuffles over to Liam, and he spreads his legs welcomingly. Liam's grin is really starting to irritate him now, especially when he's grasping his cock and pointing it right in Eric's face. He lets Eric's hand take over, and Eric copies Liam exactly. He reacts more than last time. His hips twitch, his breathing shallows, and he groans but he seems more bored than Eric was. Not a surprise, he supposes, it's nothing new to him.

It's when his tongue is playing with the head of his cock that Liam starts tugging at his hair again, grunting with impatience, and forcing his head down.

"Put it in your mouth already..." he mutters.

Eric frowns, grumbling.

"I thought you said people like teasing."

"Guys like you do," Liam says, almost reproachfully. "I don't. Just take it..."

Eric seethes when he feels a few strands being ripped from his scalp.

"Stop pulling my hair!"

Liam releases his hair unceremoniously, and Eric's mouth lands on his dick in a similar fashion. It's still startling, but after his mechanical, hurried build-up, thankfully not as startling as before. He sucks at Liam hard, this time using a lot more tongue. Liam responds well, moaning and sighing, and Eric can imagine the grin spreading across his face. He's reminded of those muffled moans he heard on the other side of the bathroom stall at Ruffians, but they don't _feel_ the same. They don't fill him with the same curious exhilaration, they don't turn him on, or inspire him to rouse more moans from Liam's throat. Naturally, his mind wanders to Kyle.

He pretends he's in the bathroom at Ruffians, and this is Kyle's dick in the gloryhole, separated and anonymous, but he's determined to make Kyle feel good. He's determined to make Kyle put his hands to the wall, clamber for him, and make him wish he was touching his skin, his hair, shoving his fingers between his lips, forcing space between his mouth and cock. He imagines what noises Kyle would make - choked-off, startled, somewhat frustrated noises, like he would be pissed the pleasure Eric would give him is something he can't fight. He wonders how his dick would feel in his mouth; long and thin like Liam's, or would it feel thicker, chubbier, veinier. Liam is cut too, so it's not hard to imagine. More than anything, he wonders if it would feel like _this_. Divorced from feeling, divorced from reality. But he doesn't need to wonder, Eric knows it wouldn't. Eric knows that if he was doing this with Kyle, his cock would be straining against his jeans at Kyle's moans, his taste, his hand in his hair. He would be thrilled that they get to do this together, and they would be doing this because they want each other. There would be no ulterior motive, and just like every quasi-romantic encounter Eric has had lately, he knows how hollow they are without Kyle, just in service of Kyle, and he laments the loss of getting to experience these things with him.

Liam is gripping his hair again, so tight that Eric knows that when he releases him he'll be clutching a handful of strands. He starts sucking harder, faster, hoping it will get Liam to relent or just cum already. His cheeks are burning, his jaw is aching, he feels nauseous from the relentless bobbing of his head.

" _Unnh... fuck, that's it... "_

Eric's eyes widen and he whimpers, muffled, as Liam buries his face in his crotch. Every thrust into his mouth makes him gag; desperate, choking sounds that Liam seems to love, fucking his throat faster. There's no room for Eric's hand, so he blindly grabs for Liam's shirt instead, twisting the material. Eric feels like all the blood is rushing to his head. He can't breathe out of his mouth, and barely through his nose. Liam grunts with every thrust, and he cums down Eric's throat with broken, staccato moans. Startled at the sudden spurt, Eric flies back, falling against the coffee table. He clutches his throat as he coughs. His scalp is throbbing.

Liam laughs in heady disbelief, bringing his hands to his face.

"Man, you're a quick learner. That was fucking amazing..."

Eric frowns at him, his eyes watering from his relentless coughing. He rubs his sore scalp.

Liam smirks at him.

"Found that a little hard to handle, huh?"

Eric wants to snap at him. The smartass comment section of his brain seems to be turning back on, which may be a sign that he's starting to come down. Unfortunately, he doesn't seem done with hacking up Liam's jizz. Even though he probably could kill him, he feels depleted.

"I'm just gonna go home..." he croaks.

"What?" Liam blinks, frowning. He gets up off the couch. "You can't go home like this. What would your parents think?"

Eric shakes his head.

"They'll be asleep."

"I can't let you go alone," Liam says, crouching down in front of him. "Some fucked up shit has been happening around here lately... you can crash here?"

Eric rolls his eyes, frowning.

"I don't feel tired right now."

That's the truth. He doesn't know what he's going to do when he gets home, but it's not sleep. Maybe shower.

Liam smiles.

"I have something for that."

He kisses Eric's forehead, presses his lips to his drenched hair, before he gets up and wanders into another room. Eric doesn't look after him, just rubs a hand over his hot, sweaty face. He wants to feel normal again, but he can't remember what that's supposed to feel like. He turns his head when he hears Liam approach, holding a bag of white powder.

"Coke?"

"No." Liam chuckles, shaking his head. He kneels in front of the coffee table. "This is phenazepam, I take it when I need to come down."

He cuts the fine white powder into lines, and doesn't have to prompt Eric to snort a couple. He thinks some sleep will do him good, even if it's here. He wrinkles his nose, it feels like his nostrils are fizzing, sending sharp vectors of pain into his skull. He rubs his nose, as if that can relieve the itch.

"Do you feel alright?"

Eric nods, still wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

"Come on," Liam says, helping Eric to his feet. "Bedroom's through here..."

* * *

Eric wakes up to kisses on his face, and his cheeks smushed between a thumb and forefinger. He wants to turn his face away from the slobbering kisses, but he can't move, trapped beneath a body and the groggy, disorientating cloud covering his brain. All he can do is grumble, blink, thrash about in feeble slow motion against the sheets of an unfamiliar bed.

"Hey..." A voice murmurs against his cheek. Liam. He crashed in Liam's bed. He kisses him. "You awake?"

" _Mmhmm..."_ the noise slips through Eric's lips. _"whassgoing-"_

He's interrupted by a kiss to his lips. His mouth is dry, he doesn't want Liam's tongue inside it. He grimaces, face scrunching up.

"I couldn't sleep... looking at you..."

It feels like his body is being turned back on, but not in a good way. Sensation is spreading down through his neck, to his torso, to his hips, and it's then he feels Liam's boner rubbing against him, Liam's hips grinding down on him.

"Hey..." he says, voice hoarse and sleepy. He manages to sit up on his elbows. "What the fu-"

He's interrupted by Liam pushing him back on to the mattress.

"Sshh, come on..." he whispers. He doesn't look into Eric's eyes, but he can see they're hazy and dark. "Don't be like this..."

Eric groans, shaking his head.

"Nnno, I don't want to..."

Liam sits up, tongue prodding at his lower lip as he stares down at Eric. He's unbuckling his pants, and Eric's heart leaps into his throat. He has to leave. Now is the perfect time. He sits up again, but his body is still moving so slow, and when Liam shoves him back down again he does so with such ease that Eric grits his teeth in frustration. Now that his sensation is gradually returning, panic also starts to course through him. He tries to get up again.

"I-I-I need to go-"

Eric is cut off by Liam smacking him across the face this time, hard enough to send him crashing back onto the mattress. The sting, the rush of blood to his head, the shock has his body withering, curling up. He puts a hand to his hot cheek. He looks over his shoulder, seething at Liam. He doesn't even think to react to his bare, erect cock above him. He feels like his mind is being tossed from one emotion to another, glitching due to the speed at which everything is happening.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he cries.

Suddenly, Liam's hand is wrapped around his neck, clamping down on his throat. He twists his hand, and Eric's body jerks to face him.

"Don't fucking speak to me like that..."

He's forced to look into his dark, angry eyes, and as Liam's hand presses against his windpipe, he forces reactions from his sluggish body. He kicks his legs, and tries to twist his neck but is afraid he may end up breaking it in Liam's grasp, or that Liam may break it for him. His hands flail about as he tries to tear Liam's fingers away from his throat, but it's no use.

Eric's heart is pounding in his ears, and his stomach is twisting with panic. He can't believe this is happening to him. He can't believe he was so stupid, and trusting of the fucking monster above him, but then it clicks. Liam _is_ a monster. But he's a sick, sad, pathetic monster. But Eric is just as capable of destroying him. It may feel like he can't get out of this, but he can. Killing him is his only way out, and he's still fucking starving.

Just like Clyde, and Red, and Annie he has to lure them in, play into whatever fantasy he has so he lets his guard down. His eyes are watering, and it feels like his head is being crushed by the lack of oxygen, but he manages to nod in quick, short bobs.

"Sorry..." he croaks.

Liam blinks, surprised by his sudden submission. He smiles.

"What was that?" he asks.

Eric takes a big gulp of air when Liam releases his throat.

"I said, I'm sorry. I want this..." he nods vigorously, and he actually bats his eyelashes. "Really..."

A delighted grin unfurls on Liam's face.

"Say it," he says, voice ragged. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Eric gulps, smothering the lump in his throat.

"Fuck me... please..." he's grasping here, trying to find the answer Liam wants. "Please fuck me."

Liam bites his lip, and reaches for the button on Eric's jeans. Eric doesn't look as he rips open his fly, and tugs his pants and underwear down his legs. He squeezes his eyes shut when he feels Liam's fingers digging into his thighs. When he opens them, he sees Liam staring at him.

"Have you ever done this before?" he asks, stroking him.

Eric shakes his head, and when Liam kisses him hard, he grimaces and lets him swipe his tongue across his lips, allowing the smallest entry inside. He wishes that was the case for what's about to happen next. He wipes his mouth when Liam leans over to get some lube out of his drawer. Eric just looks up at the ceiling as Liam preps him, trying really hard not to clench around his fingers. Eric has done this to himself plenty of times. He considers himself quite an expert at it, but Liam's vigorous prodding doesn't make him feel anything other than contempt.

"Ready?" he asks, way too soon.

Eric doesn't know. Physically, he's not at all ready. But he's ready to get this over with, he's ready to tear him apart, to have a proper meal for the first time in days.

"S-s-sure..." he replies, body tensing when Liam pulls his fingers out of him. He purses his lips. "Um, can we have some music though?"

Liam nods, busying himself with putting a condom on.

"I guess..."

Eric realises he has no idea where his phone is, but holds back a relieved sigh when he sees an Alexa on Liam's dresser.

"Alexa! Play _I Swear_ by All 4 One!"

Alexa - always there in Eric's time of need - dutifully plays _I Swear_ and Liam doesn't comment. He has other things to focus on, like, positioning himself between Eric's spread legs and shoving his cock in him with no warning. Eric cries out, trying not to hyperventilate as Liam stretches his hole, and soon he's fucking him rough and fast. It's a lot bumpier than Eric imagined his first time being, but he's trying not to think about what his ideal first time would have been, and he's especially not thinking about Kyle. He would lose all his resolve if he did that. He decides this doesn't even count. Just like Clyde, and Red, and Annie this doesn't count at all. It doesn't mean anything. It's just the unsavoury means to an end. Once this is over, his body will be revived, renewed, and it will be like it didn't happen.

Liam is panting, groaning and grunting against Eric's neck, and the scent of his sweat is overpowering even his strong cologne. Eric's gums are starting to ache. Finally. He can't help but grin. Liam has no fucking idea what's coming. He thinks he's won as he thrusts into him hard, and brands his groans and panting breaths into his neck but he's nothing but a loser. A creepy, pathetic loser who brought the wrong guy home. Eric wants to maintain that charade for as long as he can, because the harder Liam falls, the more satisfying the gruesome, splattering crash will be. He starts to moan, raking his fingers across Liam's back and clenching around his cock.

Liam's body seizes, and Eric can feel his muscles writhing beneath his fingers.

" _F-f-fuck..."_ he pants. " _Want more?"_

He picks up his pace before Eric even answers. He nods, trying not to laugh.

" _Uh-huh..._ " he moans, really hamming it up and turning himself on a little. _"Harder..."_

Eric lets out a yelp when Liam obeys, face buried in his neck and grunting through gritted teeth.

His fangs have come through, and Eric grins, craning his neck and running his tongue over the shell of Liam's ear before he sinks his teeth in. It's so easy, ripping through the cartilage and bone and tearing his ear off that Eric wants to roar with laughter. The warm blood spurts in his face, on the covers, on Liam, and he screams. The noise rings through the room.

He stops thrusting, but doesn't pull out of Eric as he cups the bloody, pulpy space where his ear once was. His face is drained of colour, body shaking.

"What the fuck have you done?!" he yells. "You psycho-"

Eric growls, his body thrumming with adrenaline, and confidence. Liam's ear is hanging from his lips, and he gasps as Eric pounces, tackling him and pinning him to the mattress. Liam is staring up at him with wide eyes, panting, and trying to wriggle out of Eric's wrist-crushing grip. He grimaces, turning his head away when Eric spits his ear out onto his face. He grins.

"Aww, too much for you to handle?" he coos, leaning forward. "Just take it..."

Eric's jaw widens like a crocodile, clamping down on Liam's throat. He screams again, more blood flies everywhere. It ruins the sheets, and gets into Eric's eyes, but he's not deterred. He continues devouring his neck until he finds what he's looking for. He rips his trachea from Liam's throat, breaks it away from the tangled chords of his veins, and it drenches him from chin to belly. It succeeds in shutting Liam up, but Eric still stuffs his ear into his throat, and clamps a hand over his limp, startled mouth, smothering his last silent, wheezing breaths.

Eric looks into his dimming eyes, lit only by fear, as he rides Liam's wilting cock. He watches him bleed out as he gobbles up Liam's trachea. His body's fighting jerks grow more and more sporadic, and Eric relishes it. But that delight soon boils over with contempt, and anger, and hatred. He frowns, fuming, at the dying man below him.

"This is what you fucking deserve!" He screams, and he shudders at the feeling of that anger being released. His eyes are burning with tears. "Date-rapist, slimy creep! Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Of course, Liam doesn't respond. His body has stopped moving, his eyes have dimmed for good, and his cock is soft inside Eric now. He's still hard, but he ignores his boner. Instead, he looks in the blood-splattered mirror above Liam's bed. He's never seen his face when he kills before. He knows his fangs grow, and his eyes seem to shift, but he doesn't know into what. His pupils have shrunk, and his amber eyes have a iridescent, golden gleam. Reptilian, serpentine. He smiles, revealing a mouth full of crimson razors. He licks his lips and is startled to find a long, forked tongue swiping across his chin. He remembers his amazement at seeing his reflection in the mirror the night he sold his soul. Then, he thought he was beautiful, now he looks formidable. Sublime. He looks down at Liam. His dead eyes are almost bulging from his sockets. Eric fishes into his ruined throat for his ear, and chews on it.

Once he's finished feeding, he has a shower in Liam's expensive bathroom, and is delighted to see his handsome reflection has returned to him. With the steam rolling off his shoulders, stood in the foggy, white glow of the bathroom he really does look like a god emerging from the clouds. He gets dressed, and spares Liam one last look before he leaves. The sheets are drenched red, and he's spread like a cadaver already, disembowelled on the bed. Eric doesn't feel anything as he looks at him. His face remains still. He walks home, strips off once again to clean his clothes, and crawls into bed, with two hours to spare before school starts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist updated (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=AkoYzGFRQnWJDgvbFWzqvw).
> 
> Songs added:
> 
> Freed From Desire - Gala  
> Can't Get You Out of My Head - Kylie Minogue  
> Townie - Mitski


	7. into your heart, I got the dagger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a lyric from 'Metal Now' by Say Anything. Thank you guys for reading! I'd love to know your thoughts, and I hope you enjoy!

Kyle can't stop pacing as he waits in the projection room for Kenny. He called an emergency meeting after Cartman slid into Stan's car the morning following their fight looking more handsome than ever. The devastating news of another grisly murder was announced the day after that. It was too eerie of a coincidence, and happened too suddenly to not hit Kyle hard. He had to take action, which is a lot easier than thinking right now. Because if he concentrated on thinking, all he would think about is their near-kiss, and how all these confusing, terrifying feelings are only emerging now, when Cartman is more evil than ever.

He's consuming his every thought, leaving no room for anyone else. He has to force himself to think about Stan, shove Cartman out of his thoughts to make room, remind himself to make plans with him. Admittedly, Kyle is missing the days when they used be just friends. There was a lot less pressure to hang out, to make every moment alone together count. But Kyle fears breaking it off. Stan is a buffer protecting him from another dangerous pair of arms he could be drawn to.

He jumps when he hears his and Kenny's secret knock, and rushes to answer the door.

"Hey." He smiles, with a big, relieved sigh he didn't know he had been holding in. "Thanks for coming."

Kyle is more grateful for Kenny than he could possibly imagine at the moment. It's nice to have a totally platonic, uncomplicated friend right now.

"No problem. I can't stay for long though."

"That's okay, I just..." Kyle sighs again, more weary than relieved. "You're the only person I can talk to about this."

Kenny nods solemnly, and steps past Kyle as he enters the room.

"You know, I was starting to think that last meeting may have been, well, our last meeting," he says with a rueful chuckle.

"Yeah, me too," Kyle replies, perching himself on the edge of a desk. His arms droop despondently.

Kenny looks around the room, and rubs the nape of his neck.

"It could just be a big coincidence, you know? The murder, and Cartman-"

"No, I need to stop kidding myself, Kenny." He shakes his head, grimaces when he remembers the stories going around about the guy who had been murdered. "When they found that guy in CtPaTown, he was naked from the waist down. He was wearing a condom."

"Definitely fits the profile of an incubus, right?" Kenny joins Kyle, leaning against the desk, and looking up at the ceiling. "How the fuck did Cartman pull that off though? He looked like shit. Who would wanna take him home?"

Kyle's nose wrinkles, thinking about how when Cartman tried to kiss him in the bathroom stall it was a natural, startled response to turn away. It felt like the right thing to do. You shouldn't kiss your friend who you have known and hated all your life - especially when they have just vomited - but that doesn't mean Kyle hasn't contemplated what it would have felt like, that he shivers with disgust. Anything but.

"Well, people's standards aren't always that high. I mean, he didn't look..." Kyle lowers his eyes and his voice. "Unattractive... he just looked worse for wear."

Kenny nods.

"Maybe there's some kind of trance he puts them under? To lure them in? Does it say anything about that in your book?"

"It talks about... eerie melodies? But I don't think they're hypnotic. They're not used to lure the victim in they're used to give the incubi or succubi power."

Kenny slides off the desk, eyes widening. He clicks his fingers.

"Shit, like that lady Chef was gonna marry! Remember?" he says, turning to face Kyle with arms outstretched, smile as wide as his eyes.

Kyle freezes as he recalls the wedding. It's like he's back in that church with the heat of the hellfire on his face, the shudder of the floorboards beneath his feet as the ground ripped open, and the blood-chilling scream of Chef's monstrous fiancé in his ears. So much happened in his childhood, a million lifetimes crammed into a few years, but when the memories resurface they shimmer vivid Technicolor.

"Oh my god... I can't believe I hadn't thought of that!" he exclaims, leaping off the desk. "What was the song again? 'There's got to be a morning after...'"

Kenny tilts his head and smiles.

"'If we can hold on through the night...'"

Kyle chuckles.

"God, that backwards version was stuck in my head for days!" he blinks, stepping closer to Kenny. "That's how we defeated her, right?"

"Holy shit, yes!" Kenny laughs, part ecstatic for this promising lead, and part revelling in childhood nostalgia. "You'd think that demonic creatures wouldn't be so into 70s pop..."

Kyle snickers in agreement.

"God only knows what Cartman's song is... if he has one..."

The mention of Cartman is a weight on the room.

"Well, maybe that should be our focus?"

Kyle nods.

"Yeah, for sure. He's coming over to my house for tutoring tonight so I'll see if I can find anything."

"Shit, your house?" Kenny asks, arching an eyebrow.

Kyle fidgets, leaning against the desk and gripping it tight. He tries not to look at Kenny when he speaks.

"Yeah, he, um... he hasn't been talking to me these past couple of days so it was the only way I could see him..." his heart stops, and starts with a vengeance when those words leave his mouth, rushing to rectify himself. "You know, get him alone so I could find out anything."

"Uh-huh." Kenny nods, and Kyle doesn't even care that it's patronising because at least he's not ripping on him. "Well, I had noticed..."

Kyle looks at him and snickers.

"Yeah, you must be enjoying the peace..."

Kenny shrugs.

"Not really, it's kinda unnerving when you guys aren't screaming at each other." He steps closer with a dent in his brow. "So what's up?"

"What?" Kyle blinks, before shaking his head. "Oh, nothing..."

Kenny lowers his chin, staring at him with knowing eyes.

"Kyle. Something must have happened for you guys to not be talking."

Kyle tries to look away, tries to deflect, but he keeps getting drawn to Kenny's knowing eyes, his calm, non-judgemental face you can tell anything to. He sighs.

"Remember the day of our last meeting?"

Kenny nods.

"Well, when I went to class Cartman looked really bad and... I know he hasn't been eating. He practically told me as much. So I told him to eat an energy bar I had in my bag and he got sick so... I offered to take him to the nurses office, but he needed to go throw up and while I was cleaning him up, he..." Kyle looks down at his shoes. His leg is jittering, but he looks back up at Kenny. "H-h-he tried to kiss me."

Kenny blinks.

"Fuck..."

Kyle's thoughts exactly. He nods.

"So obviously I told him no, and that I don't... I-I-i don't like him that way." He hates how shaky that came out. It shouldn't be so hard to say. "He didn't take it so well though and he stormed off."

Kenny doesn't respond, just nods like he's assessing Kyle's story, playing it back in his head. It's appreciated for about a second, but Kyle grows to resent it hanging in the air between them.

"I had no idea he even felt that way..." he murmurs.

"You didn't?"

"What?" Kyle's voice grows hard, head snapping up to look at Kenny. "This doesn't come as a surprise to you?"

"Not really. He is obsessed with you to, like, a homoerotic degree."

"Cartman does everything to a homoerotic degree. Whatever, he was probably just feeling vulnerable. He didn't feel so great, I was there to help him-"

"You were next to a vomit-filled toilet bowl. How could he not get swept up in the moment?"

Kyle glares at him.

"It was pretty intense, Kenny," he says, rather too defensively.

Kenny ignores it, but a smile flickers on his face.

"Did you wanna kiss him back?"

Kyle's body flares hearing the question he's been thinking about for days being spoken aloud. It doesn't change his answer.

"No! No, what the fuck, of course I didn't!"

Kenny raises his hands.

"Okay, I'm sorry, it's just..." he smiles, raising his eyebrows too. "You do have a soft spot for vulnerable Cartman."

Kyle's nose wrinkles and he folds his arms.

"That makes me sound like a creep."

"Nah, it means you can see him as human. Ironically."

"Doesn't mean I wanna make out with him..." he mumbles. Honestly, Kyle doesn't know what it means and that's what's keeping him up at night.

"But he clearly wants to make out with you, so be careful, okay?" Kenny looks into his eyes when he says that, which is his way of showing how serious he is. He's always been good at communicating with his eyes.

Kyle shrugs off his warning.

"I'm always careful."

Kenny looks at his phone, which is second-hand from Kevin.

"Look, I gotta get to class, but good luck with tonight," he says with an encouraging nod, and he's staring into Kyle's eyes again.

"Thanks." Kyle smiles, before his shoulders droop. "I don't even know if he'll show up."

Kenny gives him that deadpan, knowing look again.

"Kyle, it's a chance to be alone with you. Trust me, he'll take it. Like I said, just be careful."

Kyle just nods, and Kenny leaves him to contemplate Cartman. His actions, his evildoing, his lips. It's a habit that's hard to shake.

* * *

Paradoxically, their small breakthrough has been enough to ward off thoughts of Cartman all day. He can handle thinking about Cartman when his mind is consumed with tactics, with plans to stop him. He has a more difficult time when his thoughts drift off into musings of how Cartman walks with his hands in his pockets as they stroll to his house, how his brow furrows when he's trying to work out a particularly tricky problem on his calculus homework, or the smile that only seems to emerge when they're alone. Wicked, and carefree, and almost disbelieving. In light of recent events, Kyle wonders if that's how Cartman has wanted to smile at him for a long time and he is only now plucking up the courage to unveil it. Kyle fears that now he has rejected Cartman he won't see that smile again.

He tries to tell himself that doesn't matter. His confusing, unnerving feelings are irrelevant next to what atrocities Cartman could be committing, and putting them aside for the greater good (or at least attempting to) seems to succeed in making him feel better about everything. He hopes that once all this is over, once he and Kenny find definitive proof, and figure out a way to put a stop to the carnage then his feelings will fade. Now, all he can do is continue to get close enough to Cartman to find some really good evidence, and pore over his creepy, old book which has become more dog-eared in Kyle's possession. He's reading it on his bed while he waits for Cartman to arrive.

He actually managed to get a firm response to his invitation today, although Kyle was the one to press for a time and Cartman just seemed to be going along with it to placate him. He seems a lot more chipper than he was a couple of days ago, and is downright denying the possibility of any awkwardness between them following what happened in the bathroom. Kyle is glad for that. He knows it could be much worse. But it feels like Cartman is performing being fine, and ignoring what happened feels like a twisted upper-hand over Kyle when he can't escape thinking about it over and over.

"Hi..."

Kyle looks up from his book, surprised to see Stan slipping into his room. He doesn't know what to do with the book in his lap, so just leaves it there and hope Stan won't notice it.

"Oh, hey!" he smiles. "What are you doing here?"

"My mom wanted some stuff from the store, and I just... I don't know, I thought I'd hang out for a little bit."

"Oh..." Kyle nods. He's never been one for spontaneity. "Okay..."

Stan is his super best friend, now secret boyfriend, he can tell when things are not okay with Kyle. He approaches him slowly, with a sceptical eyebrow raised.

"Is now not a good time?"

"Well, Cartman's gonna be here, in, like, an hour..." Kyle figures he should just come right out with it. He's allowed to have plans, doesn't mean they'll always go over well.

Stan stops in front of his bed. Kyle knows he was just going to fall right onto it, but he's hesitant now.

"Oh..."

"But you can stay until then!"

Stan gives Kyle another unsure look, but perches on the bed anyway.

"Um, cool, alright. I gotta get that stuff back to my mom anyway."

He sits on the edge of his bed in a way that reminds Kyle of a parent trying to have a difficult conversation with their child. Kyle was sprawled on his bed before Stan came in, but is now sitting with his legs crossed and folded underneath each other to make room for Stan. Silence fills the room, and it's not the unnoticeable, preoccupied silence they often slide into when they're alone, but a silence that wants to be put out of its misery. Stan pokes his knee.

"Hey," he says, chuckling.

It's silly and endearing enough to make Kyle chuckle too.

"Hey."

Stan leans forward, his hand now resting flat on the bed. He's smiling, soft and shy.

"I've kinda missed you."

Kyle chuckles some more, rolling his eyes.

"We see each other every day."

Stan concedes with a roll of his eyes too.

"That's different." He lowers his voice. "You know what I mean..."

Kyle does know what he means. He has been slacking in the secret boyfriend department lately. But there's no guidelines for something so undefined. Kyle tells himself he wouldn't feel so bad if he had any clue what he's supposed to be doing. His eyes roam the sheets.

"Yeah, I've just been busy. Studying, and basketball-"

"Yeah, I get it," Stan cuts in with a sigh. It's not irritable, or impatient, it's just a knowing sigh.

"I've been tutoring Cartman too," Kyle murmurs, and his cheeks are burning already.

Stan sighs again, softer, like it's one he wants to conceal. The room is too quiet for Kyle not to hear it.

"You don't have to do that though," he points out. "What is that your reading?" he asks, peeking at the cover before Kyle can protest. " _Beginner's Guide to the Occult?"_ he looks at Kyle with wide, incredulous eyes. "Kyle, what the fuck? Don't tell me you're still on that-"

"Yes, I am still on it! And this isn't mine, Stan! It's Cartman's! Doesn't that tell you something?"

"That you're stooping to his level by taking his property?"

Kyle glares at him.

"I am not stooping to his level, okay? When you catch me eating people out in the woods, then you can tell me I've stooped to his level."

"This is insane, Kyle!" Stan cries. "I could make my peace with you thinking Cartman was doing something twisted, that's just... I'm used to it, you know? That's you and Cartman's thing, and there's nothing I can do to change that, but now you think the occult are involved?! Fuck, Kyle, you don't even believe in that crap!"

"Well, there were people who didn't believe in global warming fifteen years ago either but Al Gore was right about that too!"

Stan's jaw drops, and he's looking at Kyle like he doesn't recognise him, like he's offended by whatever version of him he's seeing. He shakes his head.

"I... I just... I don't... " he finishes his sentence by closing his eyes, and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Kyle knows that means Stan is incredibly fed up. He tries not to be too mad. Instead, he uncrosses his legs and shuffles closer, so he's sitting right next to him.

"Stan, I know it seems crazy, but we can't rule anything out! I just feel like if I can stop all this fucked up shit from happening, if I can stop more people getting hurt, then I need to do something! Especially if it's Cartman, he's one of our best friends, and this is evidence right here!" he waves the book in Stan's face.

"No, it's not, Kyle!" he snaps, lifting his head. "It could just be a weird, old book! Maybe he's... writing a sequel to _Woodland Critter Christmas!"_

Kyle blinks, deadpan and doubtful.

"I died in the last one. There's nowhere else he can really go with it..."

"Maybe you're not in it."

Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Come on, I'd have to be in it."

"You weren't the main character! I was!"

"He's not writing a sequel to _Woodland Critter Christmas_ , Stan. I can tell you that for a fact," Kyle replies, voice hard. "I can't say the same about his cannibalism..."

Stan huffs, shaking his head and looking to the ceiling.

"You know what fucking... scares me the most about this? Is the fact you're willing to be alone with him! You're willing to tutor him, and walk home alone with him! Don't you see how ridiculous that is?"

"It's not ridiculous, Stan, it's actually very smart! I'm gathering evidence, information-"

"Information like what?" Stan interjects, getting to his feet. "That he likes Kate Bush, and sucks at calculus, and that you'd rather hang out with him than me!"

The accusation hits Kyle like a punch to his gut. He's mad that Stan would think that, but also mad that he has given him little reason to think any differently. The most cruel insults are the ones with some truth to them. Kyle is going to deny this though.

"That's not true! Dude, I love hanging out with you! This thing with Cartman... I have to do it, okay? It's purely in pursuit of the truth, and I have to figure that out. Can you just bear with me a little while longer?" he asks, frowning.

Stan's mouth is drawn into a thin line, and there's a tiny dent in his brow. He looks at Kyle with hard eyes, before he studies the room for any answers on the walls. Finally, he sighs, and nods.

"Alright..." he says, sitting next to Kyle on the bed. "Alright, I guess."

Kyle stares at Stan, his head is lowered and it looks like he hasn't got much out of this deal. Maybe that's because Kyle knows he hasn't, really. He wants to make it up to him. He chews his lips as he contemplates, before shuffling forward and pressing a long, appreciative kiss to his cheek.

"I'm sorry..." he whispers.

Stan doesn't say anything, just tilts his head and finds Kyle's lips. Kyle keens to the kiss immediately.

" _This_ is what I've missed," Stan clarifies.

Kyle chuckles, nodding.

"Yeah, me too..." his eyes are lidded, and his words dance across Stan's lips.

They kiss like they're making up for lost time, or like they know time is against them. But Kyle gives in to the kisses, sinks into the moment and they only part for a second to share excited, giddy smiles as they lie side by side, mouths soon reconnecting. Kyle hears the book fall to the floor but he doesn't say anything. He cradles Stan's jaw, and weaves his fingers through his hair, and Stan's hand slides down Kyle's body to rest on the top of his thigh. A spot that's now sensitive to hands that aren't his own.

"How..." Stan gasps between kisses. "How long is a little while longer?"

"I don't know..." Kyle replies honestly. He's determined to not let Cartman ruin this. A grin spreads across his face. "But when this is over, I'm all yours..."

Stan pulls back, face flushed and eyes wide.

"Really?"

Kyle nods, because he knows this is what he should want. It's a no-brainer, and if he promises it to Stan, he's more likely to stick to it. Stan seals the deal by crashing his lips against Kyle's. They share excited, enthusiastic kisses that are the most tongue-heavy they've ever exchanged, before Stan pecks at Kyle's chin, jaw, and neck.

"You're mine until Cartman shows up though, right?" Stan asks, voice hushed, breathy, and warm on his neck.

Kyle nods, eyes fluttering shut.

"Yeah, so you have me for another forty minutes..." he grins.

"We could do a lot in forty minutes?"

Kyle blinks his eyes open, startled. Stan must sense it, because he pulls away from Kyle to stare into his eyes. They both seem bewildered.

"You sure?" Kyle asks.

He's not dumb. He knows he and Stan would do more than kissing one day, and that when it comes to sexual experience, he's falling behind his classmates. He just assumed he and Stan would take it slow, especially when so many things are unspoken between them. He thought the path to intimacy would be ambling and non-committal, and it probably still is. Kyle is not expecting to lose his virginity in 40 minutes, and he knows Stan would stop at any point if he became uncomfortable. This is why he is the right choice.

Stan nods, eyes bright.

Kyle grins. "Better shut the door first."

"It's okay, guys, I can get the door."

Kyle whips his head around, the moment ripped away from them by Cartman, leaning against the doorframe and smirking.

"What the fuck?!" Stan cries, leaping off the bed.

"Cartman, this is way too early!"

Being pissed off with Cartman is a natural reaction, and it helps Kyle smother the relief he initially felt that he actually showed up. He sits up, kicking the book under the bed.

"Clearly, but don't let me interrupt," he replies coolly. "I can wait downstairs until you're ready for me, Kyle."

Stan shakes his head.

"Don't bother. I'm out of here..."

"Stan!" Kyle says impotently, watching Stan storm out of the room.

"See you, Stan," Cartman says as he shoves past him.

Stan glares at him,

"Cartman, seriously fuck off."

Cartman shrugs, laughter bubbling behind his lips.

"Nah, I think I'll stay."

Stan looks between the both of them, and his stare bores holes into Kyle as he waits for him to say something. But Kyle doesn't know what to say. He doesn't want either of them to leave, but he doesn't want them both to stay. He shakes his head and huffs, before marching down the hallway.

Then, it's just Kyle and Cartman in a silence that Cartman can't wait to break, but is dragging on for dramatic effect. It works, Kyle jumps when he suddenly bursts out laughing. He narrows his eyes at him.

"You're such an antagonistic asshole."

"I was actually very chill about the whole thing, Kyle," Cartman replies. There are remnants of laughter in his voice, and he swipes at the corners of his eyes.

"You were baiting him."

"Into what though? Into admitting you're dating? I saw it for myself."

Kyle shrugs, tries to make it seem like it's not a big deal but he hates the fact that Cartman knows.

"Yeah, we are dating. Is that a problem?"

Cartman shrugs, his gaze wanders into the floor as he enters the room.

"Yeah, for Kenny. He just lost a bet and we both know he really can't afford to lose those."

Kyle blinks, brows furrowed. He was not expecting that.

"Wh... you're really okay with it?" Kyle asks, and he doesn't know why he's prodding. He should be happy with Cartman's answer, but it doesn't feel at all satisfactory.

"There's nothing to be okay with, Kyle!" Cartman snaps, clearly growing bored and irritated by this topic. "But if it'll get you to stop asking me, yes, I am totally okay with it! Can we just go over my calc homework now?"

Kyle nods.

"Yeah, sure..."

* * *

Kyle has resigned himself to the fact that it is unlikely he will find out more information about Cartman today, follow their lead about the eerie melody, or if Cartman has one at all. Kyle will hold his hands up and admit that during their tutoring sessions, he has been distracted from his mission, seeing Cartman less as a probable, dangerous suspect, and more like a friend whose company he actually enjoys better when they're alone.

Cartman is much more mellow when it's just the two of them, and it makes Kyle wonder how much of their rivalry is performance. Of course they have their differences, of course aspects of their personalities will never click together with ease, and may never be contorted to fit somewhat adequately. But there are parts of each other that slot together seamlessly, satisfactorily, more than Kyle ever realised. Cartman is an incredible actor, and like a good rival should do, forces Kyle to raise the stakes. He gives as just a good performance when they're in front of an audience, maintains the narrative they've starred in since preschool. But when the curtains close, when their bedroom doors shut, Kyle is off-duty and he feels more like himself than ever. Cartman's deep, dissecting stare removes layers and layers of make-up, and front, and armour and reveals him.

At least, it usually does anyway. Cartman may have insisted he was okay with what he witnessed walking into Kyle's room, but he's off. He's been texting and checking his phone from the moment he plopped himself down on Kyle's dad's desk chair, nodding along and barely listening to Kyle without any of the usual interjections. Kyle is sure that some people would consider this a welcome change from Cartman's incessant chatting, his unwavering focus on him, but he's withering from the indifference. He doesn't even talk as he waits for Cartman to finish the paper Kyle gave him. It's how they usually finish these tutoring sessions, a little pop quiz to see if Cartman has actually been paying attention to what Kyle has been trying to teach, and not just whatever digressions they've stumbled into. It's taking forever, as Cartman's eyes wander to his phone. He begins to type and Kyle rolls his eyes.

"You almost done?"

"Huh?" Cartman asks, looking up. His eyes wander to his phone as he nods. "Yeah, wait a sec..."

Kyle scowls, absent-mindedly scratching at his leg as he wonders who this person is Cartman is so captivated by. Maybe his next victim? Kyle welcomes the opportunity to think about his mission, instead of the sting of Cartman's ignorance. He leans over, just to glimpse a name. But he doesn't do it subtly enough. Cartman moves his phone away, and stares at Kyle with wide eyes.

"Hey, what the fuck! Why are you looking at my phone?"

He doesn't sound too angry, more amused than anything, which is worse.

"I wasn't!" Kyle says, betrayed by his burning face. "I was trying to look at your paper-"

"I told you I'm not done yet!"

Kyle huffs.

"Well, then could you just get off your fucking phone and finish the questions already!"

Cartman shakes his head with a mean, goading grin.

"Patience, Kyle!" he says, before returning to his paper.

Kyle glares at Cartman, hating how it seems that he has nothing better to do than tutor Cartman while he appears to have this exciting social life that Kyle is keeping him from. He folds his arms.

"I have things to do too, you know..." he mutters.

Cartman snorts.

"Like what?" he asks, eyes never leaving his paper. "Losing your virginity to Marsh?"

Kyle cringes at the use of Stan's last name, because it's so telling. He clearly isn't okay with this. In fact, he's so not okay that he can't even say Stan's name. He also cringes because talking about losing his virginity in front of Cartman is beyond uncomfortable, and he can't believe he almost witnessed that potentially happening.

"Yeah, maybe!" he snaps, trying desperately to get the upper-hand in this conversation. "Don't do the last name thing, dude. It only works with you."

"Fine..." Cartman says, scribbling something down and applying more pressure to the paper with his pen. "Here!"

He shoves the paper into Kyle's chest.

Kyle blinks, amused by Cartman's bubbling temper.

"Thanks..." he says. He chews his lip as he looks at the paper. "I thought you didn't care about me and Stan-"

"I don't. Doesn't mean I wanna hear about it.. or picture it..." there's the slightest wrinkle of disgust on his face, before he shakes it off. "And you wanted my paper already, so there, have at it..." he gestures dismissively to the paper before slouching in the chair, phone in hand.

Kyle tries to check his answers while Cartman texts, but he can't help but run with the opportunity he senses. His eyes slide over to Cartman's phone, blinking with surprise when they see he's texting Craig.

_Cartman: so pick u up at 10?_

_Craig: sure let's go somewhere quiet tho I don't want anyone to see us_

_Cartman: starks?_

_Craig: cool anywhere is fine i just need to get away._

_it gets too much with tweek sometimes._

_Cartman: dude you don't have to explain yourself_

Kyle's heart is racing, his throat shrinking as he considers the possibility Craig may be his next kill. It stokes excitement in his gut, determined that he's going to follow this lead right through 'til the end. Unlike, Red, Clyde, and especially Annie, he's going to save Craig from meeting the same fate. He knows this may mean exposing himself to danger at the most, and having to watch Cartman hook up with Craig at the very least. The safer option curdles his excitement, anger replacing determination in his gut. He tells himself this may be a natural reaction to betrayal, even if Craig cheating on Tweek has little impact on his life.

"You done with my paper?" Cartman asks, seemingly unbothered by Kyle looking at his messages. Kyle thinks that perhaps he hadn't noticed.

"Oh, yeah, um..." he tries to skim-read the last couple of questions, but it's had to concentrate. "It's fine," he says, and shoves it back into Cartman's hands. "I mean, they're pretty much all right. There were only two questions you had wrong."

"Wow..." Cartman nods, mildly impressed as he looks over his paper. He smiles at Kyle. "Looks like I won't be needing you anymore, huh?"

Kyle blinks, bristles at the fact this may very well be over.

"Well... you still got two questions wrong," he points out. It's easy to say in a way that makes it seem like he's trying to keep Cartman from getting too cocky, instead of just wanting to cling to this. "You're not an expert yet."

Cartman shrugs.

"Neither are you, and I don't want to be. My knowledge of calculus has significantly improved since you started tutoring me, but it's still boring. I don't care enough about it to keep learning until I get a hundred percent consistently, especially if I'm not having fun."

Kyle doesn't know how to respond to that, he just watches Cartman pack his stuff away.

"That was the most eloquent backhanded compliment you've ever given me."

It's the only thing he can think to say.

Cartman grins at him.

"What did you want me to say?"

Kyle shrugs, face warming again.

"A 'thanks' would've been nice."

"Thanks, Kyle," Cartman replies, standing up and slipping his backpack over his shoulders. "You're gonna be a great math teacher someday. I just think this has run its course."

Kyle nods, smothering his laughter at how formal Cartman sounds.

"That means a lot."

Cartman chuckles, and it's hard for Kyle to contain his laughter when he starts to fiddle with the straps of his backpack, like he's at a loss for what to say but doesn't want to leave. Finally, he sighs and looks at Kyle.

"See you..."

"Yeah, see you..."

Kyle doesn't watch Cartman leave the room. Instead, he swivels his chair towards the desk and hides his frown.

"Oh, and um..."

Kyle's ears prick up at the sound of Cartman's voice. He turns around and he's still standing by the doorway. He's not fiddling with the straps of his backpack, but holding on to the doorframe.

"I did have fun," he admits. "Maybe not so much today, but..."

"Yeah, I know." Kyle smiles. "I had fun too."

He wishes he had a camera, so he can capture the way Cartman is smiling at him right now, just like Cartman captured all those details he admires about Kyle in photographs. It's so typical, Kyle thinks, for Cartman to be possessive like that. He gets it though, he's become addicted to that secret, contemplative, delighted smile. It makes his chest ache a little, to know he may never see it again, or that after he heads out to Stark's Pond later tonight he may never be able to look at Cartman the same way again. Kenny said that Kyle could see him as human. He's never appreciated that until now.

Cartman gives the doorframe a squeeze.

"Bye, Kyle," he says, as he disappears from view.

* * *

It's 10:30pm by the time Kyle leaves his house. He doesn't have his own car, but is instead on his dad's insurance. Kyle has learned to appreciate these material acts of kindness from his father, since his moral support is lacking and Kyle doesn't think is all that valuable. He waits until everybody has gone to bed to sneak out, and drive to Stark's Pond. It's 10:45 by the time he gets there.

The bumpy road stops a few yards away from the pond, and Kyle parks by the clearing. The water is glimmering, reflecting the bright moon and chalky stars above, and Kyle is realising just how dark it is here at night. He turns his phone's torch on and steps out of the car, snow crunching underfoot and his breath is icy in the air. The woods are silent save for the distant calls of nocturnal birds, and the occasional rustling of other animals. He has no idea where to start, or how he will need to react, but he knows he won't find anything just standing outside his car. He takes a deep, fortifying breath and sets off in a random direction, creating a path with his torchlight.

He's only ever really terrified when he considers what he might see when he stumbles across Cartman and Craig, what might happen to him, otherwise the walk is boring and frustrating. The woods are large and dense, the trees are huddled together like they're whispering secrets to any intruders who dare wander too deep. He grumbles as he trips over branches, as they snag on his clothes, and occasionally smack him in the face. He's got a few scratches already, and contemplates how he he's going to explain those.

He's tired and exasperated when he hears faint music. It's a familiar song, cheesy and romantic, and it brings on mortified feelings, enraged feelings. It's the song Cartman sang to him on the jumbo-tron at the Denver Nuggets game, when he ruined his date with Nichole, when he told an entire stadium that they were gay and he was in love with him. The memory plays a little differently now, it's as chilling as the cold, mountain air but he sets off to follow the noise. He marches towards it, ignoring the nasty branches that whip his face out of nowhere.

He keeps marching, even when he starts to see red in the snow. The trail starts with small red flecks that grow into larger patches. Kyle is mesmerised by them as he walks, heart pounding in his ears and gut clenching. He stops, and it feels like all the air has been ripped from his lungs when he sees Craig's pale, terrified face. There's a trail of dried blood that starts in the corner of his mouth and has pooled in the snow below him. His eyes are wide, startled, and lifeless and his mouth is frozen in a scream. Kyle is trembling uncontrollably, eyes burning and when he blinks, fat tears pool at his lashes and run down his face. But Craig's dead face is nothing compared to his body. His clothes have been ripped, and are drenched crimson. He's split open from sternum to pubic bone... and Cartman is crouched beside him. He's reaching into the cavity of his torso and scooping out organs and cupping blood. He slurps, and smacks his lips, and tears at Craig's intestines with his dagger-like fangs.

Cartman is calm when the light hits his face. His face seems longer, his jaw has widened like a hungry snake. His mouth seems wider too, and a shiver rolls down Kyle's spine when a grin unfurls across his face. It's like he wants to show off his blood-stained fangs but Kyle isn't impressed. He's nauseous, and devastated, and numb. He can't stop staring into Cartman's iridescent, golden eyes. With his shrunken pupils, he seems more lifeless than Craig.

"I knew you were looking at my messages."

Kyle clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle his sobs. The thought that this is what he has been trying to prove all along makes him feel wretched. How did he ever think discovering this would be satisfying? He doesn't want this at all.

"Cartman..." he manages to whisper when he moves his hand away. His voice is wobbling, he can't stop crying.

Cartman frowns, and when he stands up he's covered in blood. The copper stench of it is overwhelming.

"It's alright," he says, stepping over Craig's body. "Kyle, it's alright..."

Kyle stumbles back, shaking his head. He doesn't want to hear it. He wants to scrub the image of Craig, and especially Cartman from his mind. He doesn't wait for Cartman to respond, just runs back the way he came. Even when Cartman doesn't follow him, he sprints through the trees. He knows the branches are tearing at his clothes, and some more hit his face again. They tear open fresh cuts, and some even hit him in the eye, but he doesn't care, he doesn't stop. He collapses into the car, and manages to start it with hands that won't stop shaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist updated here (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=oxWgGTSmQPeoKkLEFdBV7g)
> 
> Songs added:
> 
> bury a friend - Billie Eilish
> 
> break up with your girlfriend, i'm bored - Ariana Grande
> 
> Metal Now - Say Anything
> 
> You Raised a Vampire - The Moog


	8. I don't wanna be your friend, I wanna kiss your lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the slight delay in updating this, but I hope it's worth the wait! As always, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoy! I'd love to know your thoughts. Chapter title is a lyric from 'I wanna be your girlfriend' by girl in red.

Kyle can barely remember the drive home, but he's sat in the driveway, staring at the garage door. His hands shook the entire time. He recalls the car veering a little as his mind was tugged back to what he just saw. Craig in the snow, blood and guts everywhere, and Cartman, hunched, wild, and drooling red, grinning like he was so pleased with himself. But he also remembers him standing, frowning, speaking softly, trying to reach out to him. Kyle can't reconcile those two memories, the space between Cartman's monstrosity and his humanity. Just like Craig, they're split down the middle, like a hologram glitching. Kyle can't tell what's real and what's not.

It was a silent drive home. Kyle could barely concentrate, driving home with music would've been near impossible. He knows he's sat in silence, but his heart is pounding, his thoughts are screaming, and they won't shut up. He feels like he should cry, but he can't muster up any tears. He had furiously swiped them away when he was driving, but now when he needs them they won't come. He feels like his body is going into shock. He drops his head onto the steering wheel, and sobs dryly, hyperventilating.

His thoughts soon mellow, slowing down a little. He catches his breath and realises he should get inside. His bathroom is calling to him. A place that he can lock himself away in, scrub himself clean of this evening. He feels like Craig's blood is splattered all over him even though he knows it's not. The coppery scent is lingering in his nose, and makes him want to gag. He stumbles out of the car, and slips into the house. He doesn't even bother turning the light on. It's muscle memory, walking from the front door to the stairs. He still feels for the banister though, and climbs the stairs as silently as he can.

He turns the hallway light on and makes a beeline for the bathroom. He strips out of his clothes before he even turns the shower on. Once inside, he splashes his face, drags his hands through his hair and washes himself all over. He thinks of Cartman the entire time. His fangs, his luminous eyes, his blood smeared chin, and his favourite smile cracks like a whip, like a fork of electric lightening in the sky. Kyle scrubs and scrubs until his skin starts to sting, until he's lightheaded from the heat, but it's not enough. When he looks at his feet, he can still see red circling the drain. He doesn't know how long he's been in there but when he steps out, the room is humid with steam, obscuring everything.

He wraps a towel around his waist, and continues to ruffle his hair as he leaves the bathroom. He does feel refreshed, and the shower has always been a comforting place for him. Natural, he thinks, since he can be a bit of a germophobe. But he thinks it will take a lot of showers to wipe this memory from his mind. He wonders if he should even be trying so hard to forget. Somebody other than Cartman should remember.

He switches his bedroom light on, and stumbles into the doorframe when he sees Cartman lounging on his bed. He clamps a hand over his mouth to muffle a scream. His clothes are still stained with large, crusty, burgundy patches that push a lump into Kyle's throat, but otherwise he looks fine, normal, unfazed. He looks at Kyle with a smug smile.

"Hey, Kyle," he says.

He's reading his book. Shit.

Kyle gulps, trying to stand up straight though he's trembling.

"Cartman, what are you doing here?"

"I came to get my book back. First, you read my messages and now you're stealing my stuff?" he sits up, legs dangling off the side of the bed. He raises his eyebrows at him. "We need to start setting some boundaries, Kyle."

"What?" That usual Cartman irritation makes him forget his inhibitions, moving closer. "Who broke into whose bedroom?"

Cartman nods.

"Fair point..."

"How the fuck did you even get in here?"

Cartman smiles, and without a word begins to levitate. He holds up his hands, palms flat in a gesture that suggests this is nothing to him. Kyle has to muffle a scream again as he watches Cartman hover a few inches off his bed, before he flops back down again. The mattress bounces a little beneath him.

"Pretty sweet, huh? That's a new feature, but it's probably my favourite."

Kyle is still shaking, but anger rather than fear or despair bubbles to the surface.

"Cartman, this isn't funny! You killed Craig!" he cries. He grabs the side of his head, his wet curls are slippery as he tries to grip them. "Why... how... how the fuck did this happen? I..." he looks down when he realises Cartman is staring at him, and he is, in fact, still in just a towel. His already hot skin burns. "I-I-I need to get dressed first."

"Sure, then we'll talk."

Kyle scowls at his measured, annoying tone and goes to his dresser. He has his back to Cartman, but he can still feel his eyes on him. Of course he would want to make him uncomfortable as possible. He grumbles under his breath, opening his drawers and pulling out a t-shirt and sweats. He slips the t-shirt over his head, and huffs as he tries to get the sweats on under his towel. He hears Cartman snickering behind him.

"Why are you being so awkward?"

Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Because I don't want you to see me naked."

"Kyle, I've seen you naked a million times," Cartman replies, in an exasperated voice, like this shouldn't be big news to Kyle, but it certainly is.

"What?!" he whips his head over his shoulder. "When?"

Cartman is still smiling.

"When we were kids-"

"That doesn't count."

"And we have gym class together, which means we often shower together."

"Yeah, but there's an unspoken rule that you don't look!"

Cartman smirks, arches a condescending eyebrow.

"I think that's just your rule."

Kyle wrinkles his nose. He definitely does not feel better about Cartman seeing him naked after hearing that, especially if he's been looking at him the way he's looking at him now.

"Creep."

"Prude."

Kyle sighs, straightens his shoulders.

"Nonetheless, this is my bedroom and I am entitled to privacy here so you're not watching me."

Cartman closes his eyes, more compliant than he thought he would be.

"Fine."

Even with his eyes closed, Kyle doesn't feel comfortable just dropping his towel with Cartman in the same room as him. He manages to get his sweats on underneath his towel, not bothering with underwear. Cartman doesn't crack an eye open until he's dressed, and he smiles as he rakes his gaze over him.

"You look cute."

Kyle fucking loses it at those three words.

"Shut up! Shut up and stop acting like what happened tonight is fucking normal! It isn't! People are dying! People are dying because of you! How can you just sit there and be fine with it?!"

"Because look at me, Kyle!" Cartman replies, his voice and eerily calm composure cracking. He gestures to himself. "I'm the hottest guy in school, I feel fucking amazing! Didn't you see what I just did? I just fucking levitated! I'm like a god, and if some assholes who probably would've peeked in high school anyway, and some fucking creep had to die because of it, then so what?"

"No matter what you thought of them, Cartman, they were still people! They had family, and friends, and they sure as shit didn't want to die just to feed your God complex!"

"They all wanted to fuck me, though," he mumbles, agitated. He looks at Kyle with a mean, sneering smile. "Maybe they should've been a bit more discerning before they let me take them out into the middle of nowhere."

Kyle scoffs, in total disbelief. His jaw drops, but no words will come out. He once again grabs his head and grips his curls, so hard he may pull out a few. He shakes his head.

"Jesus fucking... only you!" he throws his arms up in the air. "Only you, Cartman, could think you're not to blame here! I can't... I can't fucking take anymore of this tonight, so just go!"

With that, he sits on his bed and buries his head in his hands, expecting Cartman to be gone when he looks up. Instead, he feels the mattress shift beneath him, and Cartman shuffle closer.

"You seem stressed..."

Kyle lifts his head from his hands, incredulous.

"Gee, what would make you think that?"

Cartman chuckles, closer now.

"The sarcasm, for one... what's stressing you out?"

"Are you seriously... you! You, it's always you! I just want a fucking break from it, Cartman! You haven't let up since we were kids, and just when I thought you couldn't do anything worse, you... you... what the hell are you doing?"

His spine goes rigid when he feels Cartman's hands on his shoulders. He's moved behind him, and Kyle now finds himself sat between his knees. He rubs and kneads his shoulders, his thumb rubbing circles into his skin.

"You said you wanted to relax..."

"No, I said I wanted a break from you! I can't relax when you're around, and I don't think you touching me qualifies as leaving me alone!"

"Not even when I do this?" he asks, squeezing harder.

Kyle doesn't answer, because if he has to be honest, it feels pretty good. Cartman's hands are firm, and warm, and all his kneading, and squeezing really does seem to be succeeding in wringing out all the stress from his muscles. Kyle's toes curl into the carpet when his hands move further down his back.

"Shit, dude, your back is all kinds of fucked up..." he comments. "And your shoulders..." he starts to move up again. "You're carrying a lot of tension there."

"Since when are you a massuer?" Kyle asks, but his eyes are struggling to stay open and the question lacks the usual bite.

Cartman snickers.

"I noticed it as soon as I touched you. Hasn't Stan pointed that out?"

Kyle shakes his head, he doesn't want to talk anymore. His cock is twitching in his sweats, and he doesn't want anything to give away how turned on he is right now.

"He's never given me a massage," he replies.

"Clearly..."

Kyle tries to grumble, but it's hard when Cartman is doing a good job of squeezing all the irritation out of him.

"Don't... don't fucking act like you've got nothing to do with this, okay?" he manages to snap. "If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be so tense."

Cartman shifts, and he leans in a little closer. Kyle can feel his warm breath brushing against his ear.

"Let me make up for it then..."

Kyle sighs, head falling back and resting against Cartman's shoulder. It takes a lot of effort to blink his eyes open and when he does, he sees Cartman staring at him. His breathing is ragged, his chest rising and falling beneath him. He's looking at Kyle like he can't believe they're in this position. Honestly, Kyle can't believe it either. His hands are on him, he's practically holding Kyle, and their mouths are so close. Kyle remembers their first night of tutoring, that weird, intense moment when Cartman was holding his wrist, he thinks about their near-kiss in the bathroom and Kyle contemplates what would've happened if he didn't leave, if he didn't reject him, if he just ran with it. He doesn't think about it for too long, just tilts his head and their lips meet at an uncomfortable angle. They brush together, slow, and tentative, but through his lidded eyes, Kyle can see a smile flicker on Cartman's face. But he knows Cartman wants more than that, and to Kyle, this experiment isn't over yet. He lifts his hand, awkwardly reaches behind Cartman's neck to grab his hair, demanding a harder kiss. It works. Cartman body flexes, then melts against Kyle. Their tongues meet, and it's sloppy, and a little slobbery, but not enough to make them stop. Cartman's hand slides under Kyle's shirt and a hot, relieved breath escapes through his nose, before he remembers whose hands are on him. He remembers where Cartman's hands and mouth have been this evening, and he recoils.

"No!" he yells, jumping off the bed. "No, what the fuck?"

What the hell is wrong with him and why is this happening? Cartman sighs, probably used to Kyle's rejection by now.

"Kyle, you seriously need to calm down!"

"No! Stop telling me what to do! What are you even still doing here? I don't want you here!"

Cartman smirks, eyebrows raised.

"I think that boner in your pants says otherwise..."

Kyle looks down, and there is a definite swell at the front of his sweatpants that hasn't subsided.

"That... th-that doesn't mean anything!"

Cartman is still sat on his knees and he shuffles closer.

"Fine, maybe it doesn't but... you said you wanted to relax, and I can help you do that. If you'd let me..." He keeps his eyes on Kyle as he gets up, closes the gap between them. He drags his gaze over him wistfully, with a shuddering breath. "I can make you feel so good..."

He brings a hand to Kyle's face, fingers tracing his jawline. Kyle has clamped his mouth shut, too confused, and turned on to stop this. He considers his body is still coming out of shock, and he wishes it would hurry up.

"You scared I'm gonna hurt you?"

Kyle is scared, he's not sure of what though. Still, he nods.

Cartman smiles like the notion is ridiculous.

"I'll never hurt you," he whispers as he leans in, kisses Kyle's lips. He shakes his head. "I'll never hurt you again..."

He swoops in for another kiss, and Kyle's eyebrows furrow. He didn't expect Cartman to kiss like this. He's so earnest, savouring every gentle kiss that reaffirms his promise that he will never hurt Kyle again. Kyle just stands there. He doesn't reach out to Cartman, nor does he tilt his head and give anything much in return, but he wants to know how Cartman would respond if he returned the intensity. He grips Cartman's hair again, and shoves his tongue in his mouth. Cartman's body reacts the way it did before. A shocked, greedy flex, before melting into Kyle, content and overjoyed. He grips Kyle's hair when their tongues meet, and they kiss until it gets hard for them to breathe. When they come up for air, Cartman is shuddering, flushed, and he lets slip Kyle's favourite smile. It's softer than Kyle is used to, the kind of smile that only comes out when Kyle isn't around perhaps. Kyle wants to keep it, to hold it close, and the only way that seems possible is by kissing Cartman again. Coincidentally, it's all he can think about doing right now anyway.

It's strange to think, looking at this delirious, earnest Cartman, that Kyle's putty in his hands. It seems more like the other way around. But Kyle considers that maybe they're just as pliable as each other. He wants to conduct another experiment though, it seems like another fun thing to do with Cartman, to see how whipped he can really be. He puts his hands to Cartman's chest, putting an abrupt end to their kiss.

"Your clothes fucking reek," he says, with as much contempt as he can manage. "You're not wearing those in my bed."

Cartman looks down at his dirty clothes.

"So what do you want me to do?"

"Take them off, you idiot."

Cartman is quick to comply, and Kyle watches, enthralled, as he pulls his t-shirt over his head. His hands are jittery as he reaches for the button on his jeans, like he can't get them off fast enough. It's thrilling, a pleasant boost to his ego to know that somebody so attractive wants him, that they're desperate to be with him. Cartman has proven he can have anyone he wants, and do whatever he wants with them, but he's willing to do anything Kyle says, to not hurt him despite it going against his terrifying new nature. He's opened the button, and has tugged down his fly when Kyle shoves him onto the bed, tugging his pants and underwear off for him. Cartman doesn't let Kyle touch him before crashing their lips together and pouncing on him, wasting no time slipping his hand into his sweats. Kyle blinks, startled, arching into Cartman's vigorous hand with quick, terse gasps. Kyle's eyes are squeezed shut, and he wriggles when Cartman's spare hand lifts his t-shirt and places kisses on his ribs, then his belly.

"Wanna suck you off..." he murmurs.

Kyle nods, suddenly wanting that more than anything. He can practically hear Cartman grinning in delight, and opens his eyes when he pulls down his sweats. Cartman climbs off the bed, and directs Kyle so he's sitting up, with his feet on the floor. Cartman is crouched in between his legs, stroking his thighs. He's chewing his lip as he stares up at Kyle with sparkling eyes. It stirs Kyle, humbling and emboldening at the same time. He keeps his eyes on Cartman as he takes off his shirt and throws it on the floor. Cartman purses his lips, as if to contain an excited squeal, and Kyle chuckles, soft and shaky. He's going to lose his virginity to Eric Cartman and he can't wait.

Cartman wraps his fingers around his cock, and Kyle watches as he takes it into his mouth, choking on the big, high gasp that leaves his lips. He watches in awe for a little while, mouth agape as Cartman sucks him hard and fast, desperate to get all of him in his mouth. He knows that blowjobs are supposed to feel good, but the hot, wet sensation is incredible. He squeezes his eyes shut, smothering the moans and whimpers by chewing his lip but it's not enough to contain them. If he didn't do anything to muffle them, he would probably cry out loud enough for Ike to hear at least, and he does not want that to happen. He resorts to biting his arm, whimpering into his skin, and laving at the indentions of his teeth. He blinks his eyes open when Cartman stops. He looks down, and his face is flushed and amused.

"Why are you doing that?"

"Because I don't want anyone else to hear..."

Cartman snickers.

"Nobody else can hear," he whispers, before tonguing at the head. "It's just us."

He continues to lick and lave, and Kyle squirms.

"Come on, I wanna hear you..."

Cartman starts to suck him off again, and Kyle manages a few deep, shaky gasps for a while, before he gulps, tilts his head back and lets out the long, loud moan he's been holding in. It feels fucking great, and it makes Cartman's mouth feel even better. He even feels uninhibited enough to announce his approaching orgasm.

"I'm gonna cum..." he moans.

He feels like Cartman should know that, especially if they're going to do more tonight, but Cartman doesn't stop, just sucks faster.

Kyle blinks his eyes open, staring down at him in confusion. He groans, throwing his head back when he realises he's not going to stop.

"Cartman..." he whimpers. "Cartman, wait! I'm gonna-"

Kyle cries out when he cums in Cartman's mouth, panting as he stares up at the ceiling. Cartman doesn't stop however, swallowing his load and helping Kyle ride out his orgasm with slower sucks. He closes his eyes, whimpering drowsily, and just like every time he jerks off, he feels like he could just crash onto his bed and sleep. Realistically, he knows he could ejaculate again but he feels beat.

"S-s-sorry..." he says, more breath than word.

Cartman chuckles.

"You think I can't make you cum again?"

Kyle blinks, and when he looks down at Cartman he's stroking his still hard dick, with a challenging grin on his face.

Kyle is too startled to respond, and he's more than willing to take Cartman up on his challenge. Cartman sits up, hands on Kyle's waist as their mouths connect once more. Kyle is cupping his still chubby cheeks and he lets Cartman climb on top of him, guiding him to the bed with fingers still in his hair. On top of each other, Kyle's hands roam his back, his shoulders, his thighs brush against his hips and waist, wanting to feel him everywhere. He may feel drained, but Cartman's wandering hands, deep kisses, and sensitive brushes of skin, are a much more pleasurable way of stewing in his post-orgasmic bliss than falling asleep. His erection is yet to flag and he doesn't want to lose any momentum. He sits up, leaning over to get lube and a condom out of his nightstand, and Cartman peppers kisses on his shoulder and arm. Kyle bites his lip, this affectionate side to him a welcome revelation.

Cartman only stops kissing him when he notices what Kyle has in his hands. He's panting, eyes dark, and Kyle watches his adam's apple bob in his throat. He wonders if maybe he was being presumptuous, and it makes him shrink into the sheets. He glances between Cartman's face and the condom.

"What... am I..." he lifts an eyebrow. "You did want to-"

"Huh?" Cartman blinks, before it dawns on him. His eyes widen and he nods. "Oh, yeah!" he presses a hard, reassuring kiss to Kyle's lips. "Fuck, Kyle, of course I want to do that it's just..." he giggles, snorting a little. "I didn't realise you had those in your drawer. How long have you had them in there?"

Kyle frowns, puzzled.

"I don't know? A couple of years?" he rolls his eyes, fidgeting with embarrassment. He wasn't expecting to be questioned like this, and he doesn't see how it matters. "Haven't you got this stuff in your room?"

Cartman nods, still smiling.

"Sure I do but... knowing you've had those this whole time..." he rakes his gaze over Kyle, stroking his thigh again. His voice is ragged. "it's kinda hot... knowing you wanna have sex."

Kyle huffs. It makes him wonder how Cartman even views him.

"Wh- of course I want to have sex!"

A grin spreads across Cartman's face. He presses his forehead to Kyle's and nuzzles him.

"Say it again..."

Kyle blinks, confused, but feels like perhaps it is a point worth reiterating.

"I wanna have sex."

"With who?" Cartman asks, slipping his hand between their bodies, jerking him off as vigorously as before. "With Stan?"

"God damn it..." Kyle rolls his eyes, before they slip shut. His mouth drops open and he lifts his hips to meet Cartman's hand. "You! I-I-I wanna have sex with you... "

"Tell me what you want me to do," Cartman commands, voice threadbare.

Kyle swallows, gearing up for what he's about to admit. Sometimes the things you want the most are the hardest to say.

"I want you to fuck me, Cartman..."

Kyle opens his eyes when Cartman moans, and he's immediately drawn to his boner. His hand doesn't stop.

"Give me that lube..." he murmurs.

Kyle gulps, apprehensive again and he holds the small bottle of lube almost protectively to his chest.

"Um, that part I wanna do myself..."

Cartman pulls away, looking Kyle up and down.

"Have you ever done it before?"

Kyle shrugs to avoid saying he, in fact, has not.

"Can't be that hard?"

Cartman nods slowly.

"Alright..."

Kyle's heart is racing at the prospective discomfort, and he keeps his mouth shut as he coats his fingers with a generous amount of lube. Even though he's sure he would enjoy Cartman's fingers inside him - among other things - as it's his first time, he would feel a lot better if he was in control here.

"Here..." Cartman murmurs, reaching for a pillow. Kyle raises his hips to let Cartman slide the pillow underneath him, and it does feel like a more comfortable, suitable angle.

"Thanks..." Kyle smiles shyly, enjoying Cartman's affectionate, considerate side more and more.

Cartman grins.

"That's a much better view..."

"Cartman!"

"I'm kidding!" he laughs. "Should make things easier for you."

Kyle nods to himself, and vulnerability is battling with excitement as he realises he's essentially on display for Cartman. He's about to watch him do something deeply intimate to himself, for the first time. He wonders if that's what being really into someone is about, wanting to do everything to them and with them, but being afraid at the same time.

"Start with your index finger..." Cartman suggests, after a few seconds of waiting.

Kyle reaches in between his legs, keeping his eyes on Cartman the whole time. He's watching Kyle just as intently. He shuts his eyes and groans as he tries to push his finger in, his hole tenses immediately.

"Little more..." Cartman suggests softly.

Kyle obeys, and his body feels a bit more pliant. One brush of his finger makes his already achingly hard cock twitch, makes him gasp and whimper.

He opens his eyes, and he's never seen Cartman so pleased. He's practically salivating at the sight.

"Feel good?"

Kyle nods, chewing his lip as he plays with his prostate. God, why hasn't he done this before?

"Now your middle finger..." Cartman instructs, voice laboured. He has his hand on Kyle's kneecap and is rubbing soft circles there. "That's it..."

Kyle complies without hesitation, brows furrowing, and mouth agape. He picks up his pace, legs spreading wide and he soon starts chewing his lip again. With a grunt, he sits up slightly, leaning on his elbow and when he does he notices Cartman is rolling a condom over his cock.

"Ready?" he pleads.

Kyle nods, expecting Cartman to pin him down and fuck him unceremoniously but instead he just crashes their lips together, and Kyle can't help but smile. He loves the feeling of their hands all over each other, of their hot skin meeting.

Cartman rests his forehead against Kyle's, and Kyle's heart prickles at the sight of his favourite smile up close.

"I loved watching that, by the way..."

Kyle chuckles, flushed and pleased. He's smiling so hard his cheeks are aching.

"It felt really good..." he admits, breathy and exhilarated.

When they're both so nervous and excited, the giggles are uncontrollable. They crack up even in the middle of kissing. But Cartman doesn't stop kissing Kyle as he gets them both into position. His lips only slide away from Kyle's when he pushes the head of his cock inside him. He buries his face in Kyle's neck, branding his skin with hot, panting breaths. At one point, Kyle swears he can feel Cartman mouthing his name against his neck, a muffled groan. Kyle cries out and rakes his fingers across his back as Cartman pushes deeper, stretching him more than he could have ever imagined when he was prepping himself.

Kyle's legs are quivering in between Cartman's body, and he fucks him slow and deep, savouring this just like when he kissed him. Kyle closes his eyes, and gasps and moans with every thrust, determined to savour this too. He's been imagining sex like this quite a lot recently - what it would feel like, if he'd enjoy it - but he's enjoying things he never even considered. The friction, the ache, his hole stretched around Cartman's cock, and how he can feel every little piece of him, inside and all around him. His dick, his nose and mouth against his neck, his breath, his hair against his cheek, his wide back beneath his fingers, and the scent of his sweat overpowers the lingering scent of blood in his nose. It's the most overwhelming, full-body experience he has ever had and a voice that he has been trying to gag, now murmurs freely in the back of his mind that this is what he was hoping for all along, with their tutoring and evenings spent after school.

Cartman pulls back from his neck, and he's drenched. His hair is damp and sticking to his forehead, his face is red and glistening. He stares at Kyle with dilated pupils, but doesn't talk, he just pants heavy, ragged breaths. He soon frowns, gulps, face creasing.

"I can't.." he whispers, kissing Kyle's forehead, then his brow bone. "I can't believe I'm doing this with you..."

He kisses Kyle's cheek, then the tip of his nose. Kyle's hand leaves his shoulder and cradles his jaw, bringing their lips together. They kiss like that for a while, lips and tongues following the rhythm of Cartman's indulgent thrusts, before Cartman pulls out of him with a wicked grin Kyle is all too familiar with.

He blinks, hazy and confused.

"What are you-"

"Hands and knees..."

Kyle frowns, but gets on his hands and knees and realises he's now facing the mirror opposite his bed. He thought Cartman was sweaty, but he's pretty soaked too. His hair is even damper than before, and his skin is shining with what he realises must be his own sweat and Cartman's. His pounding heart leaps into his throat when he sees Cartman kneeling behind him. They look at each other in the mirror, eyes never leaving each other as Cartman slides into him again. He fucks him as slowly and indulgently as he did before, but it seems to be less for Kyle's benefit this time, and more so because it looks as good as it feels. Cartman's hands are kneading Kyle's hips, and pulling him back onto his cock, although Kyle doesn't have to be prompted to grind against him. Every now and then, Kyle tries to catch a glimpse of his reflection, but the sight of their rocking bodies, his own hazy eyes, and Cartman's wicked, satisfied stare just makes him melt again, shoulders drooping. He cries out when Cartman leans over, inadvertently (or maybe not) pushing deeper into him, to place sloppy kisses on his shoulders and spine.

As fun as this is, Kyle does feel a little uncomfortable with being so passive, and with Cartman so clearly revelling in it by having them fuck in front of a mirror. This all happened so quickly, and he wants to assert some control.

"Hey..." he murmurs, before lifting his head. "Lie down..."

"Huh?" Cartman asks, coming to a stop. "You wanna switch already?" he slowly starts to rock into Kyle again. "This feels so good though..."

Kyle grumbles.

"Will you just do it?" he snaps.

Cartman pulls out of Kyle and lies down, watching, intrigued as Kyle crawls over and straddles him. His mouth looks heavy and he doesn't take his eyes off Kyle as he places his hands on the headboard for support, seating himself on Cartman's cock. Almost belatedly, Cartman grabs his hips. It's a lot easier, since Cartman has already been inside him, for Kyle to seat himself fully with little discomfort. He wastes no time rolling his hips, fucking himself harder and faster than before. He has to purse his lips to stop himself from laughing at the face Cartman is making. He's slack-jawed, his eyes shining with delight.

"Fuck..." he moans, closing his eyes and thrusting up into Kyle. "Fuck, Kyle, you're so fucking hot..."

Kyle moans too, in encouragement, and with the effort of it all. Cartman's hands soon move to his ass and squeeze, spreading his cheeks and actually stroking his cock with his finger. Kyle finds it incredibly hot and incredibly flattering that Cartman is so stoked to have his dick in his ass. They both pick up their pace, and Kyle can't stop moaning as he nears his orgasm. His chest is burning, his heart clenching like he may burst into tears at any moment. His balls feel tighter than ever, and Cartman must sense that he's about to cum, as he starts jerking him off. Kyle gasps, and buries his fingers in the headboard as he cums with a long, loud shout, sobbing in the aftermath, and coating Cartman's fist. He rolls his hips gently, but Cartman continues to thrust up into him hard. Kyle blinks his stinging eyes open, and sees that Cartman's brow is creased with concentration, bottom lip between his teeth. Kyle can't wait to see what he looks like when he cums, what noises he might make. He rolls his hips faster despite his exhaustion, just to help him along. It steals his breath when Cartman cums, body seizing with one last thrust, his mouth falling open, and eyes squeezed shut so tight that Kyle fears he may crush his eyeballs. He cums with a shout, but makes the cutest whining noises as he rides his orgasm out. He's squeezed Kyle's ass so hard that he's sure to leave indentions, but he strokes him apologetically. They don't talk, just collect reeling, exhausted breaths.

Their reverie is cut short by a few loud, impatient thumps to the wall.

"Hey!" Ike shouts. "Are you fucking done in there?"

Any tension that fucking may have relieved Kyle of returns tenfold. Cartman is pursing his lips, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he stares up at him.

"What the hell!" Kyle yells, punching Cartman's chest. It's not hard enough to hurt. Cartman just bursts out laughing. "You said nobody could hear us!"

Cartman chuckles, wiping the corners of his eyes.

"Kyle, I may have powers now but I can't soundproof your room."

"Oh my god..." Kyle whispers, bringing his hands to his face. "Oh my god I can't believe my little brother heard me having sex!"

He climbs off Cartman, ignoring the sore, stretched feeling. Cartman is still laughing at him, and Kyle scowls as he ducks under the covers, shielding himself from embarrassment. As always, Cartman can't leave him alone. He joins Kyle under the covers, smiling mischievously with flushed cheeks. It's a combination made to floor Kyle. He smiles before he can stop it, and he tries to snap out of it.

"Don't," he says. "Don't, I'm mad at you..."

He turns his back on Cartman, shoulders drawing up defensively. He frowns when he hears Cartman shuffle closer.

"Hey..." he murmurs, kissing his shoulder. His arm snakes around his waist. "Hey, how can you be mad at me after that?" Kyle doesn't budge as he kisses along his shoulder, not even when he kisses his neck. He can feel Cartman grin against the shell of his ear. His chest is pressed against Kyle's back, his half-hard cock poking him. "Don't make me fuck you again..."

Kyle breaks then, snorting.

"Yeah, because that would be _so_ difficult for you."

It's so easy for their lips to meet again when Kyle turns around, to roll right into Cartman's embrace. Even if Cartman can't seal his bedroom off from the rest of the world, Kyle feels like they may as well be in another dimension when they're making out under the sheets.

"Admit it, that was the best sex you'll ever have."

Kyle rolls his eyes.

"It was the _only_ sex I've had," he points out.

Cartman is undeterred, biting his lip.

"It was the hardest you ever came though, right?"

Kyle wrinkles his nose, and shifts in his arms, because he can't exactly deny that. Cartman kisses him again.

"Thought so..." he murmurs against his lips.

"I never thought my first time would be this-"

"Mind-blowing?"

Kyle glares at him, exasperated. It did feel that way, but he's not going to stroke Cartman's ego by agreeing with him.

"That's one way to put it." He sighs, looking into Cartman's eyes. "I never thought it would be with you..."

Cartman's blinks, eyes roaming Kyle's face before they drop. Suddenly shy, he traces Kyle's collarbone with his finger.

"I did?"

Kyle blinks, prickling all over.

"Really?"

Cartman fidgets, jostling Kyle in his arms a little.

"Yeah, I mean..." he looks into Kyle's eyes and smiles. "I've liked you for a long time, Kyle."

Kyle isn't exactly surprised by this given what they just did, but he has no idea how to address it. He knows Cartman admitting that to him is even more nerve-wracking than initiating a first kiss, or being naked in front of each other. But he still has so many questions he wants to ask, he doesn't know where he should start.

"Oh..." he clears his throat. "Oh, uh, well, how did you imagine it?"

Cartman struggles to meet his eyes, but he smirks.

"You remember when we were, like, thirteen and we tried to spend the night in the old Denkins barn but then we got scared and ran to Stan's house?"

"Yeah, I remember you freaking us out so much that we couldn't stay the night."

Cartman chuckles, not apologetic at all.

"There was a hole in the roof and you started naming all the constellations. I just remember thinking..." he tilts his head as he reminisces. "'God, he's such a fucking nerd, who seriously gives a fuck about this boring crap' but I realised I did, and I would wanna sit in that barn and listen to you talk about anything forever, and I thought... if I ever had the chance to go out with you, that's where we'd have our first date."

Kyle's mind is racing, he doesn't even know where to start with his questions.

"You thought I'd hook up with you on the first date?" the question leaves his lips without much thought.

Cartman snorts, looks Kyle's naked body up and down.

"Kyle..."

"This is different!" Kyle replied, the tips of his ears burning. "These are... extenuating circumstances."

"Right." Cartman rolls his eyes, before his face lights up and he tugs Kyle closer. "It would've been so romantic though, Kyle. There would've been candles, and blankets, and fucking roses!"

Kyle nods. It's easier to imagine than he thought. Cartman may be insensitive, and self-centred but he knows a thing or two about grand gestures, superficial or not.

"That does sound romantic, but also a lot like a fire hazard. Besides, that barn is freezing, if we didn't die of hypothermia first our dicks would be like this."

Kyle demonstrates just how much their dicks would shrink in the cold with his thumb and forefinger. Cartman narrows his eyes and smirks, batting his hand away.

"Alright, alright, Sergeant Buzzkill, I get it." He sighs, frowning. "Still would've been better than my actual first time."

"Who?" Kyle asks, bristling at the notion that Cartman has done this before. It shouldn't surprise him, and he knows that. Doesn't mean he has to like it. "Clyde?"

Cartman shakes his head.

"No, I didn't fuck Clyde. I've only fucked one other person besides you."

"Who was that?"

"The guy in CtPaTown..."

"Oh..." Kyle nods. He thinks about the stories going around of how that guy was found, and it all clicks. As well as how old that guy was. Something other than jealousy stirs in him then, fierce and protective. "Oh... shit, Cartman he was a grown man!" Kyle purses his lips, realising he needs to tread lightly. "Did he, um-"

"Get me wasted and fuck me when I was barely conscious? Yeah..." Cartman shrugs it off with disturbing ease, smiling at Kyle. "But it's okay. He got his comeuppance."

Kyle feels like his throat is shrinking, and it's hard to revel in his favourite Cartman smile. Whatever spell they're cast under is wearing off. No matter how much Kyle wishes they can stay under the covers and be somewhere completely different, on a different night, they can't. They're here, and before Kyle came home to Cartman in his bed he was out in the woods, hunched over the corpse of their classmate. He can't forget that. Cartman looks more human, more vulnerable than ever, but he has to see beyond that. He brings a hand up to his face, brushes his fingers against his cheek. Coaxing, and tentative, and wanting to savour this, before it all disappears.

"Cartman, you need to tell me how this happened. All of it."

Cartman stares at him for a while, like he wants to beg Kyle to change his mind, dissuade him from asking. Instead, he sighs and nods.

"Alright..."

They emerge from under the covers, to have pillow talk Kyle is sure nobody else in the world has ever had. Wispy strands of Cartman's hair are wayward, but Kyle refrains from fixing them. He takes another deep breath, and Kyle watches his finger trace the underside of arm.

"Before I say anything, if it makes you feel better..." he looks up, as if to check Kyle is still there. "It was all for you."

Kyle's stomach lurches. It does not make him feel better at all.

"What do you mean?"

"I've liked you forever, Kyle. But when I thought you were straight my feelings were kind of easier to handle?" he shakes his head. "I don't know, they've always been overwhelming, and it hurt, knowing I didn't really have a chance with you but it seemed like something I could move on from eventually. Maybe when we left for college or something? I could meet other guys, and maybe meet one who looked like you, and... whatever, it'd mean I'd have a type for the rest of my life, but at least I wouldn't be hung up on you. But when I saw you kiss Stan at that party, I could tell you were into it, and that you were into him, and something inside me fucking snapped." He's not looking at Kyle, scowling at the sheets. "I couldn't even be a little happy that this meant I had a shot with you because fucking Stan was gonna take my shot! But I wasn't gonna let him. I knew I had to do something drastic, I knew you would respond to that, especially if I looked... different..." he mumbles. "I knew you wouldn't go for me if I still looked the way I did. So I started to look into these, like, crazy diets where you only eat, like, boiled chicken and celery for a week and then you lose like an insane amount of weight, but even that didn't seem quick enough. I stumbled across these witchcraft and occult blogs that talked about spells or rituals that could make you attractive, and... if this whole town could make a deal with Manbearpig then why can't I make a deal with the devil, right?" he laughs shakily. "Satan was always chill. I thought he'd be down to help me, and I figured it would be easy. I ordered the book on Amazon, but when I tried to summon Satan I didn't get him. It was his son-"

"Damien!" Kyle interrupts.

Cartman blinks.

"Yeah, you remember him? He's kind of a dick, but I got what I wanted... for a price."

"What price?"

Kyle's stomach is twisting in knots.

"My soul," Cartman replies, as if it's so simple. "And the whole cannibal thing." He rolls his eyes as he remembers that technicality.

"What?!" Kyle exclaims.

The possibility had occurred to him, of course, it had been on his mind since his visit to Henrietta's house, but just because a theory is proven right doesn't mean it's any less horrifying.

"You don't sustain a ripped bod' like this by not changing your eating habits, Kyle," Cartman replies, way too matter-of-fact. "You have to make some sacrifices."

"Yeah, but not fucking human ones! Cartman, why..." Kyle shakes his head, gasps. "Why would you do that?"

A crease appears in Cartman's brow, like he thinks Kyle doesn't follow.

"So I could have you! Besides, what use was my soul, really?" he sighs. "It was so worth it, Kyle. I'd do it all over again."

Kyle feels like he's going numb, a new layer of shock encasing his body. He flinches when Cartman strokes his cheek.

"What are you gonna tell Stan?"

"Huh?" Kyle blinks. Oh God. Stan. It's another brick being pulled from the wall of delusion, crumbling around them. He shrugs away from Cartman. "Nothing!"

His face falls.

"What?"

"I'm not gonna tell him anything! Cartman, we can't tell anyone about this!"

Cartman blinks, his face is frozen, like he can't process why this is happening.

"But... I... don't you wanna be with me?"

After tonight, Kyle has to accept that he does. He knows that, even in an ideal, perfect world, they would have to work hard at this but he would give it a shot. But too much damage has been done in this world, and how Kyle feels is irrelevant next to the murders Cartman has committed.

"It doesn't matter if I want to be with you, I can't now! I can't be with you after everything you've done!"

"But... but you like me!" Cartman cries, sitting up and holding the quilt to his chest. His handsome face is cracking, petulant and devastated. "Kyle, you like me! Otherwise, what was all the tutoring, and hanging out after school, and walking home with me, for? What was it all for?"

Kyle huffs, guilt welling up inside him.

"Look, Cartman, maybe I handled this wrong, but I didn't know what else to do! I had a feeling something was up with you, that something wasn't right, and when Clyde, and Red, and Annie were killed I felt like I had to do something! I needed to get close to you, but I didn't realise... I didn't realise how much I would like hanging out with you! Because I do, Cartman! But no matter how I feel about you, I can't let you get away with this! I can't be with you after everything you've done, I couldn't live with myself!"

Cartman's jaw tightens, and he stares at Kyle stonily.

"But you can live with using me? Because that's pretty much what you did, Kyle."

Kyle rolls his eyes. He may have made mistakes, but he will not let Cartman be the victim.

"Please, Cartman, I think the ends justify the means here!"

Cartman narrows his eyes at him.

"What end? There is no end that bodes well for you, Kyle."

Kyle's heart clenches at the foreboding words.

"What are you gonna-"

Cartman grabs his neck before he can finish, pinning him down by his throat with both hands. He's snarling, staring straight into Kyle's wide eyes. His hair is falling in front of his face, casting it in a sinister shadow.

"If you tell anybody about what I've been doing, I will fucking kill you."

No matter how scared Kyle is of his snarl, of the tight grip around his throat, he knows it's a bluff.

"No, you won't..." he rasps.

A menacing, sadistic grin unfurls across Cartman's face.

"Oh yeah? You really wanna take that chance?"

Kyle tries to gulp for air, but it's difficult. He wheezes.

"You said you'd never hurt me again..."

"And you believed me?"

Cartman squeezes his throat, presses down on his windpipe and Kyle forgets the bluff and starts clawing at Cartman's fingers. He cranes his neck, desperate to get away and veins in his neck bulge against Cartman's hands. If he can't wrestle his way out, or wriggle his way out, he'll have to plead his way out. But he can't talk right now, he can barely breathe, his head swimming. He finds Cartman's eyes, evil and menacing, but they soon dim. He watches his grin wilt, his brow crease with conflicting emotion as Kyle holds his stare. He scowls, releasing Kyle's throat.

"Whatever, fuck, this," he spits, climbing out of bed.

Cartman doesn't look at him as he gulps for air, shaking under the quilt. He just searches for his clothes. Kyle sits up, quilt wrapped around him. Really, he thinks, how else was this night going to end?

He takes off the used condom and flings it at Kyle's nightstand. Kyle doesn't comment, just watches him get dressed. He glares at him.

"I don't need to kill you. I'd rather keep you alive and miserable, but believe me, I will make you pay if you tell anyone about this."

Kyle wraps his arms around his knees and watches with a frown as Cartman stalks over to the window.

"Don't worry, I won't have to tell anyone shit," he replies, glaring at Cartman too. "I can take you down myself."

Cartman has already opened his window, and slung one leg over the sill. He grins, caustic, reminiscent of that bloodied grin out in the woods, reminiscent of every time Kyle has thrown a gauntlet down.

"I'd like to see you try," he says, jumping out of the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the only time I haven't used a line break throughout a chapter. It feels like a long, continuous shot in a movie lol anyway playlist updated here (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=4-3Dn-SbS_2jrdQVdLsy-A).
> 
> Songs added:
> 
> Aberdeen - Cage the Elephant
> 
> U.R.A. Fever - The Kills
> 
> Dangerous - Big Data, featuring Joywave
> 
> I wanna be your girlfriend - girl in red
> 
> Desire - Meg Myers
> 
> Heavenly - Cigarettes After Sex
> 
> Barrel Of A Gun - Guster
> 
> midnight love - girl in red
> 
> A Wolf at the Door - Radiohead
> 
> I have to give another big thank you to my friend polarspicecap for giving me so many good song recommendations for this fic! She's currently in the middle of writing an amazing fic which you can find on here:
> 
> (https://archiveofourown.org/works/25154290/chapters/60952237).
> 
> It's basically what if Kyle & Eric had Matt and Trey's career, so if you love Kyman, and you love Matt and Trey, this is the fic for you!


	9. you make me feel like dirt, and I'm hurt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is a lyric from 'Ever Fallen in Love by Buzzcocks. I hope you enjoy! I'd love to know your thoughts, and as always, thank you for reading!

Kyle didn't sleep after Cartman left. He couldn't sleep. He was too confused, and scared, and angry. He kept his eyes on the window, just in case Cartman came back. He imagined blinking and Cartman magically appearing in front of him, grinning, and staring like he knew he was keeping Kyle up. When Kyle realised he wasn't coming back, he just watched the sun come up. But he's not even tired when his alarm rings. He rolls out of bed, and floats through his morning routine. He brushes his teeth, has a shower, gets dressed, and now he's stood in front of the bathroom mirror, trying to do his hair. After last night's events it seems more wayward, the sweat has seeped into his roots and made his hair frizzier, springier. He remembers Cartman's hands in it, and their sweaty, intertwined reflections, and pushes the memory out of his mind immediately. Luckily, his impatient little brother is just outside ready to distract him.

"Kyle! Kyle, are you almost done?"

Kyle cringes at another memory from last night. God, he can't believe he has to face Ike after all he heard. He doesn't even know if he can look him in the eye. Cartman called him a prude, but he doesn't think he is really. He wonders if he would've felt so mortified if Ike heard him with anybody else.

"Jesus, Ike, just a sec!" he snaps.

"I have been waiting here for, like, twenty minutes!"

He looks in the mirror and sighs, disappointed with his hair, but really, has he ever felt happy with it?

"Fine..."

He opens the door sheepishly. Ike is stood there with his arms folded, smirking.

"You know, for somebody who got laid last night you're very irritable."

Kyle winces, wrinkling his nose.

"Ike, you're twelve, it grosses me out when you talk like that."

Ike may only be twelve years old, but he's smarter than most adults Kyle knows (not a hard thing in South Park, admittedly), and a lot more worldly than Kyle is okay with.

"If you didn't want me to talk about it, you should've been a little quieter. I didn't think you and Stan had it in you..."

Kyle blinks, frowns. It's nice to think of Stan and not feel suffocating guilt, but he doesn't know if this skin-crawling embarrassment is much better either.

"Stan? Wh-what you are you talking about?"

Ike mirrors Kyle, blinking, frowning with eyebrows furrowed.

"It wasn't Stan?"

"No!" Kyle snaps, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut because he's processing too many things at once and he doesn't know what he's saying. "I mean, no, why is he even an option?"

Ike gives him that small, wry smile Kyle has seen plenty of times in the car, across the dinner table, when his parents said something ridiculous, or just very telling in the case of his father. Kyle has never had it directed at him. He raises an eyebrow.

"Kyle, I'm your brother. I know you, and you and Stan haven't exactly been subtle."

Kyle purses his lips, foot twisting a little into the plush hallway carpet.

"Oh..."

"But if it wasn't Stan then who was it?"

Kyle gulps, checks the hallway to make sure the coast is clear. He would not be comfortable at all with his parents knowing who he was with last night. Honestly, he doesn't know if he's comfortable with telling Ike either.

"I don't even know if I should be telling you this..."

"Why?"

Kyle sighs.

"Because it's inappropriate." He shakes his head. "I don't wanna burden you with this."

Ike rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms.

"Again, Kyle, if you didn't wanna burden me with this then you shouldn't have sex so loud."

Kyle suppresses a frustrated huff, before looking straight into Ike's eyes with as serious a look as he can muster.

"You have to promise me you won't tell anyone."

Ike blinks, and steps forward with bright eyes.

"Okay, now you have to tell me."

Kyle swallows the lump in his throat, but it just seems to coat his throat in this icky, nauseating film that makes it harder for him to speak. He sighs, and it's shakier than he would've liked.

"It was... Cartman..." he whispers his name, lowering his eyes.

Kyle is unsure how Ike will react.

"Oh... okay..." He blinks a couple of times, nodding slowly. A smile then spreads across his face, and he claps his shoulder. "Hey, nice going, man!"

Kyle mouth drops open. He's thinking he would've preferred total disgust and disappointment. This is unprecedented, and unwelcome.

"Nice going?!"

"Yeah! He's been looking really good lately, it's a real ugly duckling story! Aren't you stoked?"

Kyle is a lot of things. He supposes he was stoked last night, and a part of him probably still is, but he's not giving that part of himself any oxygen.

"Not really..." he mutters.

"You sounded stoked last night."

"Will you please stop making reference to how loud I was?" Kyle snaps. "I'm sorry! I promise you, it's not going to happen again."

Ike's face scrunches up.

"It's not?" he folds his arms again. "Why?"

"Because it's Cartman! I can't go there again..." Kyle is hoping the more he says it, the more it will sound like the sensible idea it is, more than the disappointing notion it still feels like. "Last night was just a huge mistake."

Ike sighs deeply, shrugging.

"I don't know, I think you two need a night like that every once in awhile, to expel some of the tension. Didn't it feel better than yelling at each other?"

Kyle wants to say 'yes,' because for anybody else he knows that would be the case. Of course fucking someone, kissing them, being in their arms should feel better than yelling at each other, and hurling insults, but in a perfect world, Kyle doesn't know if he would ever want sex with Cartman to replace that. Maybe it would be nice to not be so vicious, and Kyle really doesn't think they need to be. But he would never want Cartman to stop pushing him, and it feels too good putting Cartman in his place. There's no use dwelling on such a thing, however. They're never going to have that chance. Cartman may have wanted it, and Kyle may wish for it too, but, as always, Cartman ruined it for himself.

"It felt the same... but different?" Kyle replies, shoulders drawing up and face flushing. "Like, the opposite end of the same spectrum."

Ike clears his throat, uncomfortable for the first time during this whole conversation.

"That's beautiful, Kyle. All I'm saying is, don't let history get in the way of what you want."

Kyle narrows his eyes at Ike's sage advice, his own arms folded.

"How do you come up with this stuff?"

Ike grins.

"I've done a lot of living in my twelve years. Now, if you excuse me, I need to hop in the shower."

Kyle is left alone in the hallway. He needs to have breakfast, but he doesn't think he can eat knowing he will soon be in a car with the guy he's sort-of dating, and the guy he definitely cheated on him with.

* * *

Kyle has been watching Cartman by his locker for over five minutes. He feels like if he moves, or opens his mouth at all, he's going to throw up. No matter how many uncomfortable conversations they've had over the years, he's never been so nervous to approach him. He actually considered walking to school, or taking the bus for the first time since Stan got a car, but he didn't want to draw suspicion by forgoing a ride. The journey went better than Kyle was expecting, but Cartman didn't talk to him for the duration, or even look at him at all. Stan was frosty, but he was at least acknowledging Kyle's existence. Cartman didn't even seem sad, or pissed off, or moody he just seemed... indifferent. Something Kyle has never experienced from him, and just like not talking to each other all day, it feels weird and wrong. Especially after all that happened last night, all Cartman told him. Kyle considers that it's a defence mechanism for how vulnerable he was in the midst of being totally terrifying, or maybe it's just punishment.

He knows he should talk to Kenny about it. He wants to tell him what he saw, what Cartman revealed to him, but that would mean admitting to everything in between and Kyle doesn't know if he can go through that again today. It was bad enough talking about it with Ike, and he had no choice but to address it with him. Kyle doesn't think it will come as much of a surprise to Kenny, and he knows he wouldn't judge him too harshly, but Kyle castigates himself with every thought he has about it.

The only person he wants to talk to right now is Cartman. Everybody is murmuring about Craig, and there is no doubt he has fallen victim to the same kind of attack as the others. Tweek is practically catatonic with anxiety. It's become depressingly inevitable, and even though Kyle will do anything in his power to stop it, after last night he feels like he needs to try to get through to Cartman one last time. Kyle thinks of his favourite smile, Cartman's tenderness with him, and his vulnerable confessions and hopes he can get through to that side of him, before it gets devoured by pride, and spite, and his monstrous appetite. He takes a deep breath, and approaches him.

"Cartman, can we talk?"

Cartman shuts his locker, with a smile that is so fake it's almost cruel.

"Of course, Kyle. What's up?"

Kyle purses his lips, looks around the busy hallway.

"We... we can't talk here. Come on..." he jerks his head in the direction of the janitor's closet. They slip in wordlessly.

Cartman grins as he shuts the door behind him.

"People might think we're fucking in here."

Kyle prickles with embarrassment, shaking his head though he can't deny how suspicious that must have looked to whoever saw them.

"No, they won't."

Cartman arches a surprised eyebrow.

"Is that why you brought me in here?" he goads, stepping closer. "Because you can't get enough?"

Kyle backs away, face creasing with disgust.

"No!"

"Kyle, I know last night was a magical sexual awakening for you, but you can't just keep running to me every time you want your ass pounded. I'm not your man for that anymore. You've got Stan's dick for that, and your own fingers, and dildos can be delivered to you quite discreetly-"

"I don't want you to fuck me!" Kyle yells, burning all over because he's sure he shouted loud enough for any passersby to hear.

Cartman smothers a snort, lips pursed and eyes twinkling.

Kyle ignores him, taking a fortifying breath.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you... I wanted to _ask_ you if..." he closes his eyes, breathes in deeply again through his nose. He opens his eyes, and Cartman is waiting with eyebrows raised. "You would please stop doing this?"

"What?" Cartman asks, frowning.

"This has to stop," Kyle says, looking straight into Cartman's eyes and stepping closer. "Cartman, we've lost too many people already. It can't go on like this, it just can't."

Cartman snickers, and he looks considerate but Kyle has no idea what exactly he's considering.

"You would actually beg?"

Kyle smothers a disappointed, exasperated sigh. Of course he had something like that in mind. He rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, sure..."

Cartman nods, delighted.

"Alright. Get down on your knees."

Kyle glares at Cartman as he gets down on his knees. Cartman crosses his arms, and it seems to make his chest look broader. He's smirking down at him.

"Well? It's no fun if I have to tell you how to do everything."

Kyle bites his tongue. He seemed to enjoy telling Kyle how to finger himself, but he crushes that comment beneath his teeth. Now is not the time. Instead, he really hams up the submissive, grovelling position he's in by frowning with his lower lip pooched, his brow creased, and his hands clasped together.

"Cartman, I am begging you, please stop hurting people. Please don't kill anyone else," his voice strains, genuinely pleading. "I know you feel like you have to do this, but you really don't. There has to be another way, and I'll help you find that, but please don't hurt anyone else. Enough is enough, there's been too much pain and suffering and it has to stop "

Cartman nods. His smile has disappeared, and he's not looking at Kyle anymore. He kept his eyes on him the entire time he was pleading.

"Hmm, you're right about that. What I'm wondering, Kyle, is why exactly I should stop?" he asks, smiling again. "I've never felt so powerful. Why should I give that up?"

"For me?" Kyle asks, his eyebrows twitch, and he feels like he may have struck gold here. "Cartman, if you cared about me, you would see how much this was hurting me and you would stop."

Cartman sighs sweetly, looking down at Kyle like he's proud of him but also like he hasn't done enough. Dread sits heavily in Kyle's stomach when he considers that may be the case. It yawns when a grin unfurls across Cartman's face.

"So manipulative, Kyle. You're really getting good at that. But I've got news for you..." Kyle yelps, and then seethes when Cartman grabs his hair and yanks his head back. His tooth grazes his lip as he stares at Kyle. "This was all for you from the beginning. I told you last night, I did this because I wanted you more than anything, and even if I wanted to stop - which I don't - I can't now. I can't reverse this, and I can't stop eating people because if I don't, I lose the one thing I have that gives me any kind of control, and I'll eventually die." His jaw tightens, and he's glaring at Kyle now. "If you don't want me, then you can at least let me have this."

He lets go of Kyle's hair unceremoniously, and Kyle is still seething. Embarrassed, and furious, and shaking with indignation.

"No!" he shouts, rising to his feet.

"I didn't say you could get up-"

"Well, you don't tell me what to fucking do! And you don't fucking blackmail me into dating you! Trust me, I will do anything to put a stop to this, but I will never, ever go out with you!" he gives Cartman a shove. "Ever!" another shove. "So there!" Another shove, and Cartman's back hits the door.

Cartman seemed startled when Kyle shoved him. Now, he's just eyeing Kyle up and down, like he's processing all that has happened. He soon huffs, however, an incredulous smile flickering on his face.

"Please, you still think I wanna go out with you? I'm over it." He folds his arms, and turns his nose up at Kyle, sneering. "Turns out all I needed to do was fuck you to get you out of my system."

Kyle knows it's a bluff, but it still knocks the breath out of his lungs to hear Cartman say that. He backs away a little, glaring.

"You fucking unbelievable son of a bitch..." he whispers.

"But you know..." Cartman tilts his head thoughtfully, smiling, before he looks at Kyle again with a menacing grin. "Stan has been looking really hot to me lately."

Kyle's not getting his breath back anytime soon. He has to place a hand to his churning stomach, clamp his mouth shut and hope that no trace of panic, or fear, or anger cracks his stony expression. He can't let Cartman know he's gotten to him.

"He'll never go for you, Cartman."

Cartman narrows his eyes, lips drawn tight into a wry smile.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." He comes closer. "Annie, Red, Clyde, Craig... they never thought they'd go for me either, but they did." He leans forward, so he's right in Kyle's fuming, nostrils-flaring face. "Come to think of it, neither did you, but whose dick was inside you last night?"

Kyle scowls, cries through gritted teeth as he grabs his shirt and shoves him against the wall.

"Stay the fuck away from him!" he yells, voice wobbling with panic at the end.

Cartman doesn't say anything, and unlike when he shoved him the first time, he doesn't lose his goading grin. Kyle leaves him in the janitor's closet, while he practically falls out of it, shaking and blinking into the harsh, fluorescent lighting. His eyes search for Stan by his locker, oblivious, and undeserving of any of this. It tears at Kyle's heart, when he thinks of what he's dragged him into. He wants to hold him close, protect him, show much he appreciates him after putting up with all this crap that has now put his life in danger. But Kyle's not going to let that happen.

He hurries over to him, fighting tears. He manages a wobbly smile.

"Hey..."

Stan looks at him with furrowed brows for a bit before he responds.

"Hey, are you alright? You've been really quiet today."

Kyle nods eagerly, wanting to believe it.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I guess I just feel bad about what happened last night... Cartman walking in..."

Stan sighs, eyes wandering the floor.

"Yeah, that sucked."

Kyle steps closer, head lowered.

"Listen, me and Cartman... it's over." He looks up at Stan with the most reassuring smile he can manage. "We kind of fell out last night during tutoring-"

"I figured something was up," Stan cuts in, nodding. Kyle can tell he's trying to sound concerned, which he is, but he also sounds pleased. "You haven't talked all day. Must've been really bad, huh?"

Kyle shakes his head.

"I don't want to talk about it. But I was wondering if you wanted to come over tonight?" he smiles, bites his lip. "Maybe we can pick up where we left off?"

Stan's eyes widen, and he looks over his shoulder and scans the hall, so excited he can't even answer.

"Seriously?"

Kyle nods, pushing out the thought that Stan reminded him of Cartman when he said that.

"Yeah, okay..." Stan grins, steps closer. "I-I-I would really like that, Kyle."

Kyle smiles, shoulders drooping with relief, with the promise of better things to come.

"Me too."

* * *

It does feel a little strange to not be heading over to Cartman's tonight, or to not even be waiting for him to come over for tutoring, but Kyle supposes that making out with Stan is a good replacement activity. He really shouldn't think of it in that way though. Stan's not a replacement for Cartman, if anything, he's an improvement. Even though after sampling Cartman's kisses, Stan's kisses now pale in comparison. They set free butterflies in his stomach, sure, but with Cartman those butterflies fluttered in panic, burning under intense heat, their wings melting off and sending warmth right through him. Cartman panted when he kissed him, unable to contain his groans and whimpers, he smushed their faces together, and shoved his tongue in Kyle's mouth like he wanted to taste his insides - no, he's not thinking about Cartman eating anyone's insides right now, not while Stan is here with his lovely kisses that Kyle _does_ enjoy.

This is probably the most enjoyable making out they've done so far, actually. Kyle is definitely more unabashed than he was before, more confident. He's lying side by side with Stan, legs entangled and his prominent bulge is rubbing against Kyle's thigh. He slips a hand between their bodies, and palms at him through the denim. Stan breaks the kiss with a moan, low and soft. His nose brushes against Kyle's, blinking hazily before his eyes droop shut.

Kyle's eyes are open, studying Stan's face.

"Feel good?"

Stan nods with a small whine, keening to Kyle's hand.

"Yeah... t-t-take it out..."

Kyle unzips Stan's fly, and shuts out the thought of Cartman hurriedly undressing for him, like he was desperate to be seen, to be touched. It's easy to do so when he takes Stan's warm, hard dick in his hand, pulling it out of his pants. He wastes no time jerking him off, his hand as vigorous as Cartman's was last night. He can hear the echoes.

_"I wanna have sex."_

_"With who? With Stan?"_

_"God damn it... You! I-I-I wanna have sex with you... "_

_"Tell me what you want me to do."_

_"I want you to fuck me, Cartman..."_

Kyle bites his lip, brow furrowing as he extinguishes the memory, picks up his pace.

" _Aaah..."_ Stan moans, hips twitching. There's a crease in his brow, and his mouth falls open. " _Aaah, Kyle..."_

Kyle keeps his lower lip between his teeth, and glances at Stan's cock. The head is red and gleaming, a small bead of pre-cum trembling out of the slit. He can tell Stan is about to cum, and he's glad because his arm is really starting to ache. Disembodies music seems to be coming from behind him.

_I Swear_.

Kyle tenses immediately, looking over his shoulder, expecting the noise to be coming from below his window. The music is still playing, but only in the back of his mind. It's creeping forward though, pooling like poison and spreading to the front of his brain. He focuses all his attention on Stan's dick. His eyes are glued to it, and he's breaking the skin on his lip he's biting it so hard, anything to drown out that stupid song, but it only seems to be getting louder.

Kyle is so focused on Stan's dick, that he jolts a little when Stan finally cums with a long, broken moan, spilling all over his hand. At least it makes the music stop, like a needle jumping on a record. Stan sinks into the bed, mouth still agape and panting against the pillow. A smile spreads across his face.

"That was really great..."

Kyle smiles too, relieved. He wishes he could bask in this moment more, but he's just glad he got the music in his head to stop.

"Um, thanks..."

He reaches over Stan to get a tissue from his nightstand, wiping his hand and giving a tissue to Stan. He smiles in appreciation, cleaning his dick.

"Can I do you?"

Kyle nods, hearing Stan's moans and panting breaths, and watching him cum has made him a little hard, and any distraction from his thoughts would be welcome. Stan grins, leaning forward to kiss Kyle again. He lowers him down, half-climbing on top of him as he undoes Kyle's pants and reaches into his underwear. Kyle gasps, keening to the touch with eyes closed, concentrating on the gentle, warm hand on his cock, Stan's fingers brushing against his skin. He moans, and that seems to be Stan's cue to jerk him off in earnest. Instead of _I Swear_ , he hears Cartman's words in his head.

_"Nobody else can hear... It's just us... Come on, I wanna hear you..."_

He resists the urge to growl under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. But _I Swear_ drifts to the front of his mind again, and he feels something warm drip onto his forehead. He frowns, opens his eyes and is horrified to see the ceiling saturated with a large patch of blood. A burgundy ring, with a glistening red center that continues to drip, bloated, like the ceiling is going to collapse at any moment and dump gallons of blood all over them.

"Stan!" Kyle cries, lurching forward. "Stan, wait!"

Stan stops, pulling back and eyes alight with worry as they search Kyle's face.

"What's wrong?"

"The ceiling! There's blood on the ceiling!"

"What?"

Stan looks over his shoulder, lifting his head. He returns to Kyle with a frown.

"I don't see any blood..."

Kyle blinks.

"You don't?"

When he looks at the ceiling, the patch of blood is gone. He can feel no wetness on his forehead.

"But..." he whispers, eyes roaming the ceiling. "But I swore I could..."

Stan strokes his shoulder.

"It's okay, Kyle, it's alright. Do you want me to stop?"

Kyle looks straight into Stan's eyes, and shakes his head. No way is he going to let Cartman ruin this.

"No..." he manages a reassuring smile. "No, sorry, keep going..."

Stan doesn't look convinced, but keeps going, finding a rhythm that makes Kyle buck up into his hand again. His eyes flutter shut when Stan starts peppering kisses on his neck. _I Swear_ is still on his mind, but he feels that if he doesn't freak out about it, or pay it any more attention than it deserves, then it will fade away. His head lolls to the side, to the direction of his bedroom door, and his eyes fly wide open at their sudden audience. The bodies of Red, Clyde, Annie, and Craig are all sat in a row. Propped up, with white-blue skin, glazed over eyes, and mouths yawning for eternity. They look like abandoned, macabre marionettes. Clyde's torn open throat is exposed, drenching him in crimson; Red is lopsided, her neck at an uncomfortable angle with maggots wriggling about her mauled, infested shoulder; Annie is topless, her belly ripped open and her guts spilling out onto her lap, much like Craig. Then, Cartman materialises behind them like a phantom, a banshee, the macabre puppet master. He looks like he did when Kyle saw him in the woods. His jaw wide, and long, his razor fangs glinting, and his eyes are that impossible gold. He blinks sideways, like a reptile would. His gaze follows Kyle like a creepy painting. He leans down, and swipes his long, forked tongue over Craig's neck. Kyle's eyes burn with tears, there's a clamping pressure in his throat. He sinks his teeth into Craig's neck, and blood so dark it's almost black spurts out. Kyle can hear the crunch of bone, muscle, and sinew. Cartman tears the flesh away and chews with his mouth open, lips smacking. He grins at Kyle, mouth still full of flesh. His teeth are stained red, and blood cascades down his chin. Kyle feels like he could scream, or sob, but his stomach leaps into his throat.

"Stop!" he cries, sitting up and pushing Stan away from him. "Stan, stop!"

"God, Kyle, are you-"

Kyle throws up over the side of his bed, trying to catch some of his vomit but is unsuccessful.

"Fuck! Oh, Jesus, dude, here..."

Stan grabs the garbage can by Kyle's bed, and places it in his lap. Kyle continues to throw up, with Stan rubbing his back.

"Hey, it's alright... just let it out..."

Kyle is shuddering when he's done, still woozy. He looks up and they're gone. He wipes his mouth, ignoring his prickling nose and stinging eyes. He can still hear _I Swear._

"Are you okay?" Stan asks. "Was it something I did? Is this too much for you?" he chuckles softly "Believe me, I get it..."

Kyle shakes his head.

"It's nothing you did... it's..." he blinks. Those grotesque, terrifying visions feel like bleach that has stripped away all of Kyle's shock. Rid of it, he's remembering last night in the woods so much clearer. "It's _I Swear!"_

"Huh?"

" _I Swear_ , Stan!"

"You swear what?"

"No, dude, the song!" he cries. "I can't get it out of my head, and it's... the eerie melody! Cartman's eerie melody!"

Stan frowns.

"What the fuck is an eerie melody?"

"The song! The song that incubi sing to gain their power! Remember, dude?" Kyle turns so he's facing Stan fully. "Chef's fiance? We had to sing a song backwards to defeat her?"

"Yeah, dude, I remember but..." Stan shakes his head, leans in closer. "B-b-but how do you know that's Cartman's eerie melody? What does that even mean?"

"I saw him in the woods last night! He killed Craig, Stan, and he was eating him, and he was playing that song in his truck!"

Stan's eyes are flitting across Kyle's face.

"Are you sure?" he asks, wincing.

Kyle's body droops, and he frowns.

"Am I sure? Stan, of course I'm sure! I saw it with my own eyes!"

Stan sighs.

"Yeah, and you also thought there was blood on the ceiling..."

A flame of anger licks at his insides.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that how do you know you didn't imagine that too!"

Kyle's jaw drops, incredulous. He sets the garbage can down on the floor, fixes his pants.

"Dude, are you seriously trying to gaslight me right now? I know what I fucking saw!"

"Really?" Stan asks, throwing his hands up. "When was the last time you had a decent night's sleep? Or thought about anything other than this fucking theory that Cartman is a literal demon! You're obsessed!"

"Yeah, maybe I am! But someone has to fucking care about this, and try to do something! Cartman even told me that he sold his soul to fucking Satan!"

Stan rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, right..." he mutters, not even looking at Kyle.

Kyle is seething. He wishes Stan would fucking look at him right now.

"Stan. He told me."

Stan huffs, bitter.

"Yeah, during one of your 'tutoring sessions.'"

That flame of anger is extinguished by hurt. It feels like Stan has nicked at a particularly sore spot. Kyle frowns.

"Why are you acting like this?"

"Because I'm sick and tired of being second best to Eric Cartman!" Stan yells, getting to his feet. "Why can't you just leave him the fuck alone, Kyle? He got in shape, and you can't just let him have that! It's got to be suspicious, there's got to be some motive-"

"It was suspicious!" Kyle cuts in, getting up too. "And there was a motive!"

"Alright, well, if you're so convinced he's dangerous, then why do you hang out with him night after night? You've been following him around like a fucking lost puppy, and I'm just an afterthought even though all I've ever done is care about you! You're my best friend but that doesn't even matter to you! All you care about is besting Cartman, and figuring him out! And he gives you nothing, Kyle! Nothing but fucking problems! But, you know, I'm sorry I'm not obsessed with you! Sorry I don't treat you like shit!"

Kyle is fuming. That sore spot Stan has nicked is bleeding now. He knows it's a painful, scathing truth. Another truth is that he cannot deal with this anymore, nor does he really want to.

"Actually right now, I think that's one thing you and Cartman have in common! Just get the fuck out, this is over!"

"It's been over for a while!" Stan cries as he storms out. "Not that you care!"

Kyle watches Stan leave, not even commenting when he slams his bedroom door. He's shaking with anger, and hurt, and fear, and also with his brand new epiphany. There's only one person he wants to talk to right now, and that is Kenny McCormick. His hands are shaking as he picks up his phone and calls him.

"Hey, man, what's up?"

"It's _I Swear,"_ Kyle says, in one exhilarated breath. He can't get enough of saying it.

"You... what? I feel like there was something missing from that sentence."

Kyle shakes his head, rubs a hand over his face.

"I figured it out. Cartman's eerie melody. It's _I Swear_. Remember? By All 4 One? He sang it to me at the Nuggets game?"

There's a pause, before Kenny starts singing under his breath.

" _I swear, by the moon and the stars in the sky_ \- holy shit, of course! How did you figure that out, dude?"

"Can you come over? I'll explain then. We need to learn that song backwards as soon as possible."

"You got it. I'll be there in five."

* * *

The sun is rising, glowing through Kyle's curtains by the time he's almost got _I Swear_ down. Well, almost down. He's determined to get through it backwards at least once tonight (early morning). But the more exhausted he becomes, the more impossible it seems. It's just as much of an earworm as _The Morning After,_ and demonic connection aside, Kyle knows it's going to be in his head for a while after this is all over. He doesn't know when that will be. A part of him wants to get it over with, is ready for all this misery to end. But another part of him doesn't feel ready at all, when so much is still unknown.

Kenny has been a reliable, calming presence, cooling Kyle down when he got too frustrated, perking him up when he became too despondent. They made sure they learned the song off by heart forwards first, it seemed the most logical first step in learning it backwards. Kyle is sure he's sang it about a hundred times at this point, sometimes going right back to the beginning - or the end - straight away when he fumbled, or ignoring his mistakes and soldiering on. The former was his preferred method of practice, Kenny's the latter. Kyle can tell his energy is waning. Kenny very rarely looks tired, but Kyle can tell he is right now. He's curled up on Kyle's floor, swaying a little with the weight of his fatigue. His cheek is smushed against his palm, and his eyes are lidded. If Kyle didn't know any better, he would say he was stoned. But he's not asleep, not even when Kyle is coming to the end of what must be his one hundredth and first rendition, and the most successful. He hasn't fumbled once.

" _Side your by that's shadow the like I and the sky..._ fuck!"

Kenny shakes his head, discouraging Kyle's frustration.

"It's okay, dude, you're doing great. You almost had it."

Kyle sighs, body sagging.

"Should I start from the top? Or, uh, the bottom, I guess?"

"No!" Kenny clears his throat, averts his gaze. "No, god, no... let's just take it from 'side your by that's shadow' again."

Kyle nods in acquiescence. He doesn't really want to start all over again either.

" _Side your by that's shadow the like..."_ he nods as it comes to him. " _Swear I and sky... "_ A grin spreads across his face. He's going to do it, he's going to make it to the end. " _The in stars the and moon the by swear I!"_

"Yes!" Kenny cheers, raising his fists to the sky. They're both invigorated by Kyle's success, it seems. "You did it, man!"

"I still fucked up on that last line though..." Kyle mumbles, good mood dimming when he realises it was only a minor success.

Kenny shrugs.

"Yeah, but you did almost make it through to the end. Keep practicing and it'll be perfect." He looks into Kyle's eyes with sleepy seriousness. It seems to take a lot of concentration, he's frowning with brows furrowed. "Any idea when you're gonna use it?"

Kyle opens his mouth to answer, but sighs instead. He drops his head.

"I... I don't know. When I get Cartman alone?" he offers, wincing. "But I don't think he wants to be alone with me right now. After everything that's happened, I think you're the only person who wants to hang out with me."

Kenny snickers good-naturedly.

"Well, when it comes to friends it's quality not quantity. Are you nervous?"

"Terrified," Kyle admits. "What the fuck is gonna happen, Kenny?"

Kenny shakes his head, puffs out his cheeks as he exhales slowly and heavily.

"I have no idea."

"What if it doesn't work?" Kyle asks. He's set free one paranoid, insecure thought and now they're tumbling out of his mouth. "What will we do then? What will _he_ do then?"

"I guess that's just a risk we have to take."

"And what if it does work-"

"Fuck if I know, man," Kenny cuts in, clearly just as insecure about what he doesn't know. "I can ask Henrietta?"

Kyle smiles and nods in appreciation.

"Thanks. I just don't know if I could handle it if he's gone for good, you know?"

Kenny nods, eyes roaming the carpet.

"Yeah... I know..."

For the first hour or so, Kyle and Kenny just talked about what was going on between him and Cartman, as well as him and Stan. Kenny seemed more surprised about Stan and Kyle's secret relationship, but made no comments as Kyle rambled. Not that Kyle gave him much of a choice to interject. Kenny walked in and Kyle saw the only friend who didn't hate him right now, the only person he could talk to, a chance to get everything off his chest. Kenny offered his condolences, and when Kyle was ready jumped straight into song practice. Kyle had smiled after him, unbelievably grateful.

"At least you guys got to hook up once," Kenny says, with a one-armed shrug and a half-optimistic smile. "Seems like Cartman's been wanting that for a long time."

"He said I was the reason he did this..." Kyle frowns, face creasing. "That makes me partially responsible for all this, right?"

"No." Kenny shakes his head, and shuffles closer so he's right beside him. "Kyle, you literally did nothing except be yourself... I guess you could say Cartman did the same thing, but there's no use in our unqualified minds trying to get inside Cartman's head and figure him out. It's impossible."

"What about the fact he wants to go after Stan? That's my fault, right? I rejected him, and he wants to punish me! And now I can't even protect him because he doesn't want to fucking talk to me and he doesn't believe me, anyway!"

Kyle drops his head into his hands, and keeps it there even when Kenny wraps his arms around his shoulders and brings him close. He rests his cheek against Kyle's hair.

"We're not gonna let anything happen to Stan, and when this is all over you'll realise you did the right thing..." He gives Kyle's shoulder a squeeze, shaking him a little. "And we'll fucking rage because you need to blow off some steam."

Kyle snorts, chuckling in agreement. It makes Kenny chuckle too, and he places a kiss in his hair. Kyle knows there's no feeling behind it other than wanting to comfort him. Kenny doesn't really have a problem comforting his friends with touches and hugs, he would probably call what he just did something lame like a 'bro kiss.'

He sighs, pats Kyle's back.

"Okay, I'm gonna go home," he says, slowly getting to his feet. He nods at Kyle. "Get some sleep. We've got a couple hours until school starts."

Kyle nods in return, getting up and following Kenny to the door.

"Thanks for everything, Kenny." He smiles, leaning against the doorframe.

Kenny smiles too, giving Kyle's shoulder another squeeze.

"No problem, man." He glances down the hallway and raises his hand. "See you, Ike."

Kyle blinks.

"Huh?"

Kyle turns his head, and sees Ike watching from his bedroom door, arms folded, shoulder resting on his doorframe.

"Later, Kenny."

Kenny walks away without another word.

"Kyle, seriously?" Ike asks, after Kenny has trotted down the stairs. He arches an eyebrow. "You and Kenny too?"

Kyle's eyes roll to the ceiling.

"I don't wanna talk about it, Ike."

"Are you a slut, bro?"

Kyle glares at Ike, hot all over.

"Good night, Ike!"

He shuts his bedroom door before Ike can point out that technically it's morning. Probably one of the most emotionally strenuous 24 hours of Kyle's life has come to a close.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playlist updated here (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=WrhGIJaIT7Oy0wHtPYB_dw).
> 
> Songs added:
> 
> Getchoo - Weezer
> 
> exile - Taylor Swift (feat. Bon Iver)
> 
> Ever Fallen in Love (With Someone You Shouldn't've) - Buzzcocks
> 
> Twisted Nerve - be your own PET
> 
> Halloween Blues - The Fratellis
> 
> Drive - Incbus (I had to)
> 
> Next update may be slightly delayed, but I will try to get it posted as fast as I can. Only two more chapters to go, things are getting tense! Thanks again for reading!


	10. is he ready to die for you, baby? (Orpheus and Eurydice)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting this, but as this chapter is the penultimate one I promise you that I will not be so tardy in posting the final chapter! Title of this chapter comes from 'Setting Sun' by Lord Huron, which I love loads anyway, but in the context of this fic I love it being sung from Eric's perspective even though really it should be from Stan's if anything. The little bit in parentheses will make sense at the end. I hope you enjoy (and that it makes up for the wait), I'd love to know your thoughts, and thank you for reading!

It's safe to say that for the past couple of days Kyle hasn't exactly felt wanted.

He and Stan have been trying to act like nothing is wrong, even though everybody except Butters now knows that they were sort-of dating. In a way, this takes some pressure off the two of them because they're not good at pretending everything is fine at all. They've barely talked to each other, and Cartman is just flat-out ignoring Kyle. This doesn't come as a surprise to Kyle, but it's a shock to his system at the very least, for Cartman to not even try. Ignoring him is probably one of the most hurtful things Cartman can do to him.

At least Kyle has Kenny. Kyle would go as far as saying he's his best friend right now. Sure, mostly they talk about the uneasy dynamic their friendship group has adopted, and a strategy to take down Cartman, but it keeps Kyle from falling into a pit of depression. He can tolerate the frostiness, the awkwardness if he knows it's just the means to an end, and he can tolerate the end when he's still not crystal clear what it means. Does it mean purging Cartman of his demons? Nullifying the deal he made? Or does it mean destroying him for good? Kyle dreads the latter. He dreads the thought that this Cartman - so indifferent, so cold - is the last Cartman he'll ever see, that nothing will ever make things like they were before. Because if he could do that, Kyle would actually give them a shot, if Cartman still wanted him. When he practices the backwards version of _I Swear_ , he doesn't just think of bringing peace to the town, of avenging the deaths of his classmates, he thinks of Cartman's smile, his plans to be a photographer, how he looks at him, and he thinks of their night together. The scariest, most confusing, overwhelming, exciting night of his life. He thinks of Cartman's kiss, his touch, his sweaty forehead pressed against his own, and how he held his stubborn body under the covers and realises this is what he misses, and has been missing for so long. It's a devastating notion, that the song is a spell of salvation, and could also tear the person Kyle truly can't imagine a life without away from him. It's like he's not only planning Cartman's funeral, but his own too.

Right now, Kyle has no idea what Cartman and Stan are planning when he spots them huddled together by Stan's locker. Kyle's stare must be obvious and potent enough to draw their attention to him. He balks at the two pairs of eyes on him, but he's just as transfixed. He watches their lips move but can't figure out what they're saying. Cartman places a hand on Stan's shoulder, murmuring parting words with a smile that Kyle knows is meant for him.

He slips away from Stan, as evasive and unsettling as a spectre of death, and anxiety lurches inside Kyle. But he doesn't give in to the nauseating waves rolling over him. Instead, he decides to confront Stan. Fuck this weirdness between them. Stan's life is in danger and Kyle needs to warn him. He marches over to him, jaw pulled tight.

"Alright, dude, what the hell was that about?"

Stan blinks. Maybe he shouldn't have come in so hot.

"What?"

His wilful obliviousness to the situation is grating. Kyle scoffs, eyes wide and incredulous.

"You know what! You guys all huddled together, talking!"

"Not everything is about you, Kyle..." Stan mumbles, embarrassed and guilty, pretending to look through his locker. If their glaring didn't give it away, then Stan's response certainly does.

Kyle folds his arms.

"When it comes to Cartman, it invariably is."

"I wouldn't be so sure!" Stan replies, slamming his locker shut. "Cartman's been really cool to me, actually. He's noticed things haven't been good between us lately, and he was just checking if I was okay. Which is more than you've done!"

Kyle blinks, stung because he didn't really know he was supposed to do that. For him, it kind of defeats the purpose of breaking up. He fidgets guiltily.

"I've never broken up with anyone else, but I'm pretty sure that people don't check in to make sure the other person is okay."

"Yeah, if they want nothing more to do each other." Stan sighs. "I never wanted, that dude. Aren't we still friends?"

Kyle suppresses another incredulous, indignant huff because he feels it's unfair for Stan to assume he'll behave in a certain way, when Kyle has no clue what the fuck the protocol is. He thinks it's even more unfair for him to think Kyle is being purposefully spiteful, when he really isn't.

"Of course we're still friends! It's just weird right now." He sighs, remembering why he came over to talk to Stan in the first place. "But as your friend... don't let Cartman suck you into his trap, alright?" his brow creases, pleading. "I still think he's dangerous and he's possibly grooming you."

Stan's nose wrinkles, and he flushes.

"He's not some middle-aged dude in a chatroom."

Kyle arches an eyebrow.

"But he's still a predator."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe you've got this all wrong?" Stan says, still as testy as he's always been about this. "Isn't it possible that Cartman getting in shape has had a positive effect on his personality?"

"No, because he has presented literally zero evidence of that."

Stan lowers his eyes and chuckles, derisive and rueful.

"Yeah, of course _I'm_ wrong..."

Kyle frowns, and his heart creaks with a guilty feeling.

"I just think you're being naive."

"That's supposed to make me feel better?"

"I don't know what you fucking want me to say!" Kyle cries, throwing his arms down at his sides. He wonders for a second if this is how Stan has been feeling all along, warning Kyle to stay away from Cartman.

"Nothing!" Stan snaps. It makes Kyle jolt, especially when he seems to be squaring up to him. "I don't want you to say anything, Kyle! I want to walk away from a conversation with you and not feel like shit!"

Kyle lowers his head, shoulders sagging. Did they always make each other feel this bad before they started 'dating?'

Stan sighs.

"Can we do that?"

Kyle's leg jitters, and he lifts his head with a short, impatient breath. He's gearing up to reveal his honest answer, because he knows it's one Stan is not going to like.

"I'm not gonna ignore the truth so you can feel better."

Stan steps back, looking at Kyle with a resigned frown.

"Didn't think so. I'll see you around, Kyle..." he mutters, as he walk away.

* * *

_Eric can't stop thinking about Kyle. It's kind of like old times, his every thought consumed with vengeance. It's a nice distraction from numbing despair, and burning disappointment that makes him want to trash his room, and tear someone apart. He's imagined tearing Kyle apart. Making him suffer, making him plead, and cry, and bleed, for all he's done to him. But he's in too deep now. He can't even wrap his hands around his throat without going all soft, and chickening out. He's never loved or hated Kyle more than he does right now. He hates that he has to be against him, he hates that Kyle's principles have turned him off Eric completely, and - whisper it - he hates that he has a part to play in the demise of him and Kyle ever being something. Something like they were that one amazing night. But he loves Kyle's lips, his scent, his taste. He loves how Kyle looks at him when he forgets all the shit that keeps them apart, he loves talking to him, and laughing with him, and kissing him, and fucking him. It's all he's ever wanted. More than money, and power, and good looks, and flesh. He wants Kyle. All of him, all to himself, forever._

_But Kyle doesn't want him. Or at least that's what he tells himself, and he's too stubborn to listen to anything or anyone else. But Eric is going to make him listen. Kyle doesn't want him? Then he'll show Kyle what he's capable of when he doesn't get what he wants, when people think they can fuck with him and best him. Eric may never be able to hurt Kyle, but he can handle some collateral damage. The game is on, and Eric sure as hell isn't going to lose._

_So he's been ignoring Kyle, and focusing on Stan instead. People may call Eric self-centred, but he's actually very observant. He knows something is up with Stan and Kyle, he knows it would all start to crumble between them the moment he and Kyle kissed. He sees a hint of frost settling in and starts getting Stan alone more and more, offering him cloying platitudes and the shoulder to cry on that Stan is desperate for. Stan is no different to Clyde, Red, Annie, and Craig. He's no different to the other students who stare at him in the halls, who flush and giggle when he talks to them. A glimmer of interest, a lingering stare, and a well-placed touch will be enough to break him. Eric's been looking for someone to tear apart, may as well be the competition._

_They're smoking weed in the old Denkins barn. Stan wants someone to hang out with tonight, and of course Eric, as the supportive friend, is happy to oblige. Stan picks him up and Eric refutes the suggestion of hanging out at Tegridy Farms, and says he knows a spot. Stan is more than cool with this, taking any opportunity to be far away from his dad. They're sat on the rotting bales of hay, and Eric is preoccupied with staring at the spot where he ate Annie. The police tape is gone. The investigation blending together with that of Red, and Clyde, and Craig, and Liam._

_"Man, I can't believe this is how I'm spending my Thursday night..."_

_Eric blinks, pulled out of his thoughts by Stan's voice._

_"I am sitting right here."_

_Stan rolls his eyes and smirks, exasperated._

_"Dude, I didn't mean it like that, I just meant..." he looks around the ancient barn. "I haven't been here since I was thirteen."_

_Eric snickers, looks at his shoes._

_"Yeah, I remember that." He looks up at Stan and sneers. "We had to leave because you and Kyle were too scared."_

_"You were the one who freaked us out! You told us it was haunted!"_

_Eric shrugs._

_"Well, if it wasn't haunted then, it's haunted now..."_

_Stan's brow furrows._

_"Huh?"_

_"This is where they found Annie."_

_"Oh..." Stan nods. His shoulders draw up, and looks around the barn again. "Oh, shit, yeah..."_

_"What's the matter?" Eric grins, leaning in closer. "You scared of ghosts, Marsh?"_

_Stan huffs, rolls his eyes._

_"Ghosts don't exist, Cartman... but it does feel creepier in here all of a sudden." He accepts the joint when Eric hands it to him._

_Eric looks him up and down, before leaning in._

_"I can protect you..." he murmurs, and places his hand on top of Stan's._

_Stan glances at his hand, eyes widening when they reach Eric's face. He gulps and snatches his hand away, tucking it between his legs. Eric smiles when he's not looking. Stan can try all he wants, but he knows where this is heading._

_"What would you be doing on a regular Thursday night?" he asks. "Hanging out with Kyle?"_

_Stan shifts uncomfortably, hand still tucked between his legs and nose wrinkling._

_"Yeah, probably." He sighs. "He has a basketball game tonight."_

_"Did you see him staring at us today?"_

_"Yeah, I did. He came over to talk to me."_

_Eric blinks, sitting up straight and shuffling closer._

_"What did he say?"_

_"Nothing, I just..." Stan shakes his head testily. "I don't wanna talk about Kyle anymore. Why are you so interested?"_

_"I just wanna know what went on with you two," Eric replies, as nonchalant as possible._

_"You knew what was going on! You saw us!"_

_"Yeah, I saw, and just for the record, I hated it," he snaps. "I hated seeing you two together."_

_Stan blinks, looks Eric up and down._

_"Why?"_

_"I..." Eric sighs dramatically, turning his head away. "I can't explain it. Just seeing you two... it made my fucking heart hurt, you know?"_

_It's not exactly a lie. He feels for Stan's hand on the bale of hay, resting his palm on Stan's knuckles, and this time he doesn't move away._

_"Seriously?"_

_Eric looks at Stan with the most forlorn eyes he can muster. His bottom lip pooches invitingly, and he leans in. Stan is still, and even when Eric is centimetres away from his mouth he can tell that Stan's body is drawn tight. His lips are lidded as they watch Eric approach, but when their lips brush together he doesn't pull away._

_"Wow... " Stan murmurs in the tiny space between their lips. "I always thought that-"_

_He's cut off by a harder kiss._

_"What?"_

_Stan shakes his head, a trembling breath leaving his mouth. The rest of his sentence seems to have disappeared as he looks at Eric's lips._

_"I don't know..." kiss. "Maybe out of the two of us..." kiss. "You would want Kyle..."_

_Eric chuckles, noses pressed together._

_"Kyle? Why would I want Kyle?"_

_"Because you two have always had this thing..." kiss. "You get so wrapped up in each other..." kiss, faster now. Eric isn't into Stan, but he's into Stan confessing all his insecurities about his and Kyle's relationship so obliviously. It's a definite turn on. "Even I couldn't get between you two."_

_Eric sighs._

_"Stan, you are way hotter than Kyle." He looks into Stan's eyes and smiles. "Of course I would want you."_

_Stan offers him a sheepish smile, and Eric smashes their lips together. After a couple more seconds, Stan returns the kiss, cradling Eric's jaw and tilting his head, tongues meeting._

_"Do you mind if I put some music on?" Eric asks._

_Stan is still smiling, and he shakes his head._

_"I actually have a good playlist if you wa-"_

_"I got it covered," Eric cuts in, already reaching for his phone in his jacket pocket. He opens Spotify and plays I Swear._

_He leans in to kiss Stan again, but Stan recoils without a word. His gaze is distant, his face frozen._

_"What's up?"_

_He knows what's up. Obviously Kyle told him._

_"N-n-nothing!" Stan blusters, getting to his feet. He rubs his palms on his knees and keeps looking over his shoulder. "I just remembered, I... I-I need to go home-"_

_"Really?" Eric cuts in, still smiling as he grabs Stan's arm and tugs him closer. "Now?"_

_Stan tries to pull his arm out of his grip. Eyes wide, and breathing rapid._

_"Cartman, seriously, let me go-"_

_Stan does rip his arm away, but Eric snarls and tackles him to the ground. He huffs when he hits the ground. Eric grins, he can feel his gums aching, his fangs coming through._

_"Cartman!" Stan yells, wriggling beneath him. "What the fuck are you-"_

_Stan's mouth falls open when he looks over his shoulder. His eyes almost bulge out of his sockets, and Eric can feel his body trembling underneath him. Eric licks his lips, his forked tongue running along the ridges of his fangs._

_"Oh... oh my god..." Stan whispers. "Kyle was right about you!"_

_Eric shrugs._

_"He's right about a lot of things." He leans in close and sneers. "Except when it comes to you..."_

_"What..." Stan gasps when Eric twists him around and his hands clamp around his throat. He wheezes and struggles when Eric grips him tighter. "What are you talking about?"_

_"I mean what the fuck was he thinking when he decided to date you?" Eric snaps. "You two would never work! You could never give each other what you want! And you had zero chemistry. When I caught you two making out it felt like I was watching you commit incest. It was gross."_

_Stan's eyes squeeze shut, whining as he tries to wriggle out of Eric's grip._

_"What, and you think you would be better?" he seethes when Eric gives his throat some reprieve. "I know you like him, Cartman! It's obvious! But he would never, ever want you!"_

_Eric shrugs again, grinning._

_"He wanted me the night I fucked him."_

_Stan stops kicking, stop wriggling. His body deflates, and his face falls, and it's so delicious Eric could start drooling all over him._

_"Huh? You..."_

_Eric's grin grows wider and he nods._

_"Yeah. The night I caught you two, we didn't just do caluclus."_

_Stan shakes his head, brow creasing and he starts struggling again._

_"No..."_

_Eric nods, exaggerated and delighted. His tongue hangs out of his mouth,_

_"Uh-huh. I kissed him, and touched him, and I fucked him real good. He was begging me for it."_

_"You're lying!" Stan cries._

_"I swear on Kyle's life, Stan, I'm not. I'd swear on yours, but pretty soon that sentiment is not gonna be worth shit."_

_Stan's face cracks with the realisation that this is it. This is how he's going to die. Torn apart by the guy who fucked his boyfriend, the childhood friend who betrayed him. He whimpers, still struggling._

_"Cartman, please..."_

_Eric only snarls._

_"The only reason Kyle didn't break up with you the next day is because he didn't want to hurt your pathetic, little feelings. You're in the way of Kyle's happiness - you're in the way of_ my _happiness - and I just can't let that stand."_

* * *

Kyle is lining up to get on the bus heading to Jefferson County for a basketball game. All their games this season have been played outside of South Park, due to concerns from the other schools about their students spending even one evening here which, honestly, Kyle totally gets given current circumstances. It is nice to get away from this town, nice to at least try to think about anything other than Cartman, and Stan, and the mauled, eaten bodies of his classmates. With all that on his mind, he hasn't been playing so great lately, but he's really going to focus on his game tonight and nothing else.

"Kyle!" He turns his head at the sound of Kenny's voice. He's sprinting through the parking lot towards him. "Kyle!"

Kyle breaks away from the line, gut clenching at the sight of Kenny so flustered.

"What's up?" he asks, as Kenny tries to catch his breath. He's bent over, and his hands are on his thighs.

"Cartman..." his eyes are gleaming when he lifts his head. "I saw him getting into Stan's car..."

Kyle stumbles back, feeling like all the air has been knocked out of him.

"Oh shit... did you see where they were heading?"

"Somewhere out of town, I guess. They wouldn't go to Stan's place, would they?"

"No..." Kyle shakes his head. "No, not if Cartman is planning on..." his throat constricts, not letting the words out. What Cartman could be planning is unimaginable, let alone unspeakable. Kyle isn't playing basketball tonight. "We gotta go now."

Kenny nods, shoulders straightening.

"I'm right behind you. Do you think you're ready?"

The question nicks at Kyle's resolve. He gulps, shrugs helplessly.

"I don't have a choice. I have to be ready."

Kenny claps him on the shoulder with a tight, solemn smile.

"You'll be fine. Let's go."

They rush away without a second glance, without a second thought for the game Kyle is abandoning.

"Kyle, where are you going?" Token calls after them.

"Kyle!" Bridon sounds a lot more pissed off.

"Broflovski, where the hell do you think you're going?"

Kyle looks over his shoulder to see that his coach has stepped off the bus after hearing all the commotion.

"Sorry, coach, it's an emergency!"

"What kind of emergency?" Bridon demands, breaking away from the line too.

"That's fucking personal, Bridon!" Kyle snaps, but doesn't stop.

Token throws his hands up in the air.

"What the hell, man?!"

"Do you think we could borrow your dad's truck?" Kyle asks Kenny, ignoring the frustration of his teammates. "There's no way my dad will let me loan his car if he knows I'm blowing off the game."

"Sure, my dad won't give a shit. Do you even know where to go though?"

Kyle grimaces.

"Yeah, I think I have an idea where they'll be."

When they reach the Denkins' barn Kyle is both relieved and terrified to see Stan's car parked outside it. He and Kenny didn't talk about what they could possibly find when they discover Stan and Cartman, and it makes it hell of a lot easier to jump out of the truck and rush in to the barn. Nothing could have prepared Kyle for what he sees, anyway. Cartman is straddling Stan's back, and they're surrounded by a dark pool of blood. His jacket and shirt have been ripped open by Cartman's claws, his fangs, and he's sobbing as Cartman chews at his shoulder, body spasming with the pain. His fingers are buried in the dirt, and Kyle can see the deep, desperate claw marks from where he's tried to escape.

"Kyle!" he screams, reaching his blood-stained hand out to him.

Cartman looks up only at the sound of Kyle's name, and when he does he actually screeches like a banshee. His mouth seems to encompass his whole face, a crimson, jagged crater. His irises are glowing like they're on fire, and he's covered in blood. His hair is drenched with it, his face smattered with it, and his chin is smeared with it. Kyle is frozen, trembling uncontrollably, unable to make a sound.

"Holy fucking shit..." Kenny whispers.

A grin stretches across Cartman's face and he growls, low and thrumming.

"What the hell, you guys? You just interrupted a lovely evening..."

Kyle finally finds his voice, Cartman's goading words remind him exactly who he's dealing with.

"Get away from him!"

Cartman smiles, an attempt at innocence.

"Or what, Kyle?"

He digs his fingers into Stan's ruined shoulder and Stan cries out, his face contorting and his body spasming once more with searing pain.

"Stop!" Kyle cries. "Stop, you fucking psychopath!"

Cartman let's go of Stan's shoulder, and he buries his face in the ground, whimpering with relief.

"Let me guess, this is the part where you take me down, right?"

Cartman keeps smiling at Kyle as he levitates, higher than he did in Kyle's room, a good ten feet off the ground at least. He levitates with his legs together, glowering at Kyle and Kenny as he circles around to them.

"What the fuck! Is he-"

"He's just hovering!" Kyle snaps. "It's not that impressive!"

Cartman lands a few feet away from him, not making a sound. He narrows his eyes at Kyle.

"You just love any chance to undermine me, don't you?"

Kyle is seething, reeling at what he just saw, and what he's up against. Cartman just seems to get more powerful every day. He remembers Stan, mauled and in pain on the ground.

"Kenny, fucking do something! Stan is bleeding to death!"

"I am?!"

Kenny rushes over to him, taking off his jacket.

"Easy, dude, you're not gonna die..." He soothes, bundling his jacket up and using it to staunch the blood pouring out of his shoulder. He gets Stan into a hunched, sitting position. "It's okay..."

"What the fuck is going on?" he asks, sobbing as he clings to Kenny.

Cartman regards it all with thinly-veiled contempt and disinterest.

"Really?" he asks Kyle, turning to him with an arched eyebrow. "Him? You would choose him over me?"

Kyle gulps, glancing between a shivering Stan and a monstrous Cartman.

"I would choose him over a cannibalistic serial killer."

"That doesn't answer my question..." Cartman says, moving in while Kyle backs away.

"Yeah, it fucking does! That's what you've become!"

Cartman scowls.

"It's what you turned me into..."

"No!" Kyle cries. "No, I did not! This was all on you, Cartman! Because as always, you don't think things through! Because you would rather take the easiest, laziest, most insane, and destructive route than make any kind of compromise! It's all about what _you_ want! But you're so fucking selfish and stubborn that you lose sight of what that even is! Fuck, _I've_ lost sight of what that is! Me?!"

Cartman scoffs, incredulous, and rakes his gaze over Kyle.

"Yes, you!" he snaps. "You fucking moron, I want you! I want to be with you!" his voice cracks. "I want to go on dates, and watch movies, and hang out in your room! I want to kiss you, and touch you, and... love you!" He frowns, brow creasing. He tries to step closer. "Kyle, I love you!"

Kyle shakes his head, nostrils flared.

"No..." he whispers. "No , you don't love me. If you loved me you wouldn't do this. Is this really how you thought you would win me over?"

Cartman sighs.

"I had no choice..." he states matter-of-factly.

"Yes, you did!" Kyle cries, his voice tearing. He throws his arms down. "Yes, you did, Cartman, you've always had a fucking choice! You're not the victim here, and I'm not gonna let you keep thinking that just so you can feel better about all your terrible decisions that amount to nothing! Right now, I've never wanted you less!"

That crease in Cartman's brow seems to turn into a tear, splitting his face apart like Kyle is sure what's left of his heart is cracking right now. He won't apologise. His jaw pulls tight, and he sucks in a shaking breath. He watches Cartman frown, his nostrils flare. He looks away, and his chest is heaving. When he looks back at Kyle, he's snarling and his face is cast in a dark, red-tinged shadow, wilder than ever.

"Now I really fucking hate you..." he growls.

"Oh shit..." Kyle hears Kenny mutter.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kenny disappear from Stan's side, but he doesn't say anything. He doesn't want to take his eyes off Cartman, and he stumbles back as he charges towards him.

"I am going to eat your soul and shit it out, Broflovski!"

Cartman is stopped by an old, rusty rake going right through his chest. Blood flies everywhere, some splattering on Kyle's clothes, but neither of them scream. Cartman's mouth drops open, his eyes widen, and he's shaking as he silently stares at the black claws sticking out of his chest, dripping with blood, his flesh is clinging to it. Looking over his shoulder, Kyle can see Kenny behind him. His face is smattered with blood too, and his bulging eyes are fixed on Cartman.

"Kenny, what the fuck did you do?!" Kyle yells.

"He was going to attack you!"

"We had a plan! Now we have two bleeding friends!"

"I wanna go home..." Stan sobs, curled up on the ground.

"You're going to the hospital!" Kyle snaps. "Kenny, take him!"

A scream rings through the barn when Cartman pulls the rake out of his chest, and throws it aside. He advances towards Kyle, seething, and snarling and not even acknowledging the gaping punctures in his torso.

"I'm not leaving without you!" Kenny yells.

"I can handle it, just go!"

Kyle doesn't know if he can. If being fucking impaled can't stop Cartman, then what can Kyle do? He has to trust that the song will work, it has to. There has to be a way to defeat him.

Without another word, Kenny helps Stan to his feet and rushes them out of the barn. Kyle whimpers when his back hits a wall, there's nowhere else he can go. Cartman is grinning, maniacal as he approaches him. He staggers into him, and digs his fingers into Kyle's shoulders, pinning him to the wall so his shirt and jacket rises up. His shoulders are heaving, his breath thrumming with anguished growls. He moves his hands down and squeezes Kyle's biceps, undeterred by Kyle's trembling. He leans in close, so his mouth is by Kyle's ear. The overwhelming, copper scent isn't imaginary anymore.

"You don't know how happy I am that they're gone." Cartman whispers, ragged. Kyle can practically hear his trembling grin. "You couldn't wait for another chance to be alone with me, could you?"

All the while _I Swear_ has been playing on a loop. Kyle realises it's coming from Cartman's phone, tucked into his jacket pocket. He has to make it stop.

Cartman takes a deep, shuddering breath, and it's hot against Kyle's ear. He tilts his head, and presses his face against Kyle. His nose is buried in his hair.

"I always wanted us to be alone here..."

Kyle doesn't need to say anything, because he knows this is nothing like how Cartman imagined it. He lowers his head, and Kyle chokes on a cry when he feels Cartman's fangs graze his neck. He sinks his teeth in just hard enough to draw blood, and Kyle squeezes his eyes shut and purses his lips to smother a scream. It pushes tears out of his eyes, and they run down his face. He's hyperventilating when he opens his eyes, and without thinking about it slips a hand into Cartman's pocket and takes his phone. Cartman doesn't notice, and Kyle lets him suck at his neck like a vampire, moaning at the taste. He laps at his blood, and Kyle grimaces when he feels Cartman's crotch grinding against his hip, a semi in his pants.

"You still scared?"

Kyle swallows the boulder in his throat, and shakes his head.

"No..."

He throws Cartman's phone on the ground and steps on it. The screen shatters beneath his feet, and with a couple of stomps the song stops playing. Cartman pulls back from Kyle, bewildered and fuming. Kyle doesn't know if he's scared anymore. Whatever fear he may be feeling is encased in a hard shell of adrenaline.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Cartman demands.

He huffs when Kyle tackles him to the ground. He kicks and squirms, but Kyle manages to pin his arms down, straddling him.

Kyle closes his eyes, and with a shaky breath starts to sing.

" _Swear I, oh, swear I, swear I-"_

Cartman pounces on him with a growl, pinning his shoulders to the floor and screeching in his face so loud it leaves his ears ringing, but Kyle won't stop. He shuts out any thought of his hand being bitten off, and presses it to Cartman's face, almost smothering him with his palm, and keeps singing with eyes squeezed shut and his head turned away. He ignores Cartman's thrashing, his grunts, his drool running down his wrist and into his sleeve.

" _heart my of beat single every with you love I'll part us do death till worse or better for..."_

Kyle sits up, and scrambles backwards when Cartman falls to the ground. He watches, panting, as Cartman curls up in the dirt, screaming and holding his head. His body convulses with pain. Kyle stands up.

" _There be I'll side your that's shadow the like swear I there be I'll sky the in stars and moon the by swear I swear I..."_

"What the fuck are you doing?!" Cartman cries. "What's happening?!"

Kyle can see the whites of his eyes are now a glowing, deep red. He's gripping his hair so hard he may pull it from the roots, and he's seething and sobbing. Kyle's heart clenches and his stomach is twisting in knots. He doesn't think he has ever hurt someone so much as he is hurting Cartman right now, but he can't stop. This is the only way. Tears burn his eyes.

" _Swear I and heart my of beat every with you love I'll part us do death till worse or better for..."_

Cartman places his palms flat on the ground, crawling feebly before he projectile vomits this black tar-like substance. Kyle's face creases and he steps back as it splatters on the floor, steam furling from it. When Cartman looks up at him, his red-gold eyes are shining with tears, and his teeth are gritted.

"I thought you liked me, you son of a bitch!" he sobs.

Kyle chokes on a hiccupping breath, and he squeezes his eyes shut so he can continue.

" _There be I'll, there be I'll..."_

His eyes fly wide open at the sound of a hoarse, chilling screech that he knows didn't come from Cartman. He stumbles back when he sees a hole has opened up in the ground. It shoots vectors of fiery light up to the ceiling, and the heat hits Kyle's face.

_"Side your by that's shadow swear I and..."_

Black appendages which Kyle doesn't know are vines, or tentacles, or maybe just different pairs of arms sprout from the crater. They crawl across the ground, finding Cartman and wrapping around his ankles, pulling him away from Kyle and closer to hell.

"No!" Cartman yells, clawing into the ground as he gets dragged away. "No, god damn it, no!"

" _Swear I there be I'll sky the in stars the and moon the by swear I and..."_ Tears are running freely down Kyle's face, and his voice is wobbly.

Kyle can only see him from the waist up now, and more and more of him disappears as he descends into the earth. He looks angry, and frightened, and betrayed, and it's difficult to look at him but Kyle can't tear his eyes away. _This_ will be the last Cartman he ever sees.

" _No!"_ he screams. _"Kyyyyyle!"_

His voice echoes through the barn as the crater swallows him up. It shrinks and then disappears without a trace, like nothing happened, like Cartman was never here. But Kyle can see the grooves where his fingers raked across the ground, his neck is still stinging and bleeding, and he can feel Cartman on him, still. His lips, his words, the press of his body. It's not like the presence of a ghost, but a film over him, a shadow behind him, and he'll never shake that. It's all he has now. He stares at the spot, wishing there _was_ some evidence, but he knows there's never going to be. He drops to his knees, buries his face in his hands and sobs.

It's done.

He hears soft footsteps approaching him.

"We couldn't leave without you," Kenny says, crouching beside him.

Kyle doesn't look up. Kenny places a hand on his shoulder and sighs.

"You did the right thing..." he whispers, pressing his face to Kyle's cheek.

Kyle wants to speak, but all he can do is sob. Kenny stands up.

"We have to get Stan to the hospital. Come on..."

He has to lift Kyle to his feet. Kyle is shaking, sniffling, choking on hiccuping breaths. He lets Kenny lead him to the truck, and doesn't stop looking over his shoulder, expecting to see Cartman behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epilogue will be posted in a few days. I don't know if that makes this the penultimate chapter or the final one but I am happy to think of it either way! Therefore, I'll save my final gushing author's note for the epilogue. Hopefully the parentheses in the chapter title now makes sense. The Greek mythology nerd in me was dying for me to make a more explicit reference to it because subtlety ain't my thing. I also included two of my fave quotes from Jennifer's Body in this chapter, and I'm sure any fans of the movie will spot what those are! Playlist updated and songs listed below (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=y9kor3qaQySba_RgjiXfHw)
> 
> Our Love - Rhett Miller
> 
> Setting Sun - Lord Huron
> 
> All over You - The Spill Canvas
> 
> Dancing with the Devil - Wolf Gang
> 
> All in White - The Vaccines
> 
> my tears ricochet - Taylor Swift
> 
> :( (sad face) - Bahari


	11. Epilogue: I hated you, I loved you too

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies that this isn't the longest epilogue in the world, but it may be just the right length for closure. I'll gush more in the final author's note about how much I've loved writing this story, but for now I hope you enjoy and I'd love to know your thoughts! Title chapter comes from 'Wuthering Heights' by Kate Bush. I think it's the perfect song to bring us home. Thank you for reading!

It's been a week since that devastating night in the barn, and Kyle has visited Stan in hospital every day. He's suffered serious nerve damage, and is waiting to have surgery to reconstruct his shoulder. He can't use his one arm at all until then, and probably not for months after while he heals and recovers from surgery. It's a good thing he gave up football in middle school. Kyle hopes it won't affect his guitar playing too much. It's one of Stan's favourite things to do, and if he becomes depressed then recovery will be that much harder, that much more arduous.

It's easier to think of the future, of Stan, than it is to think of the present, and of Cartman. The night in the barn is a screeching, numbing, heartwrenching blur to Kyle now. He couldn't stop violently shaking. Kenny seemed to be the only one who wasn't in shock but Kyle couldn't be sure. While they waited for news about Stan, they didn't talk. A nurse gave Kyle a blanket, and Kenny chewed all the skin around his thumb until it started to bleed. Kyle winces when he thinks of the drive; Kenny exceeding the speed limit, the two of them scrambling for a story that Stan was attacked by Manbearpig, and that it drug Cartman off. Kyle remembers repeating it over and over, and he remembers yelling at Kenny for yelling at Stan when Stan couldn't follow, when he would drift off and not respond. The front seat of the truck was drenched red. Kenny had to spend the whole next day cleaning it. He's told Kyle the smell hasn't completely gone. He remembers the stunned, bewildered eyes of the patients and staff in the emergency room when they brought Stan in. He had lost so much blood, they said, that he was lucky to be alive. He remembers paralysing guilt when Mr and Mrs Marsh showed up. Mr Marsh was stoned and disorientated, and Mrs Marsh was hysterical, pleading with Kenny and Kyle for answers. Kyle still feels wretched for the extent of his lies.

He hasn't slept much at all. Not since that fateful night, and certainly not since he had to give a statement to the police. Their story is well-rehearsed, and the police seem to have made up their minds that Manbearpig is responsible. Kyle shouldn't feel guilty, or so he tells himself. His lie isn't impeding justice being served, justice has already been served. He did it, and now he has to live with the consequences. He has to imagine Cartman's mom, all alone and worried sick about where he could be. He has to imagine Cartman, and that's the hardest part of all because he doesn't know what the fuck has happened to him. The thought that he's killed him makes him want to vomit, makes him feel like he's been cut from throat to stomach. He knows Cartman would have killed again. He probably would have killed every single person on earth until it was only him and Kyle left. Kyle wonders if that world was the only world where they could have worked, but is it a world he would want to be a part of? Doesn't stop Kyle from missing him. That shadow he sensed, the film that settled over him that night feels heavier than ever, weighing him down and draining him.

The hospital is becoming less and less of an unsettling place for Kyle to be, and evidently for Stan too. That's the real miracle, since Stan has despised and feared hospitals all his life. When he arrives on the ward, he sees Stan sat up in bed, holding a juice box with his good hand and slurping contently. He smiles when he notices Kyle approaching.

"Hey..."

"Hi." Kyle smiles sleepily. He's always sleepy lately. He pulls the curtain across to give them some privacy, like he always does. No one can hear about that night. He pulls up a stool. "You seem a lot more chipper today."

"Yeah, well, I'm having my surgery tomorrow."

Kyle chuckles.

"Exactly. I thought you'd be freaking out, and throwing up-"

"Right now, I'm trying to look on the bright side," Stan cuts in, maybe not so relaxed about his surgery as he's letting on. "I just wanna get it over with, at least once it's done I'll feel like there's an end in sight, you know? I can start to feel normal again."

Kyle blinks. It seems like an impossible goal.

"I don't think I'll ever feel that way again," he mutters. His eyes roam the linoleum floor.

"Yeah..." Stan sighs, looking up at the ceiling. "Maybe we'll never feel completely normal. But what is completely normal? Maybe we should just... appreciate whatever normalcy we can get. Like, my shoulder."

Kyle looks up and smiles, humouring him.

"Are you still in pain?"

"Not as much as before. One good thing about hospitals is the morphine. I'm gonna have serious withdrawal when I leave this place."

Kyle snickers.

"I can just see you lining up outside a methadone clinic."

"Who needs methadone when I have acres of medicinal marijuana waiting for me when I get home?"

They chuckle together, soft and tentative. Stan's smile soon fades into a frown, and his eyes wander to an unknown spot.

"Yates was here again this morning..."

Kyle's throat tightens immediately.

"Oh," he whispers, shifting in his seat. He clears his throat. "Did that go well?"

Stan blinks, looks at Kyle again.

"Yeah..." he nods. "I just told him the same thing. To be honest, I was in so much shock, and pain that night that it does kinda feel like reality? It makes more sense than what actually happened. That just feels more like a really bad lucid dream."

"I wanna say that's a good thing but I don't know..." Kyle frowns. "Seems kinda unnerving."

Stan's body deflates, and he's unable to look at Kyle again.

"I think I'd rather have that than the actual memory."

Kyle shakes his head. He's apologised profusely for what Cartman told Stan, and what they did, but his guilt rises every time he thinks about it.

"Stan, I'm so sorry."

"Dude, I've already forgiven you." Stan gives him with an uneasy smile. "It's kinda dumb to stay mad."

"But you have every right to be mad."

"And I have every right to forget about it too. He's..." he shakes his head. "He's gone now. It's over."

Kyle deflates, that shadow hovering over him, that film around him feels heavier than ever. Suffocating.

"I know..." he murmurs.

Stan sighs. Clearly, Kyle doesn't do a good job of hiding his feelings.

"It'll be okay."

"Lately I've been wondering if I did the right thing."

"He would've hurt more people, Kyle," Stan replies firmly.

"I know, but..." Kyle shakes his head and huffs. "Why did it have to be us? Why is it _always_ us? Why did he always have to do this shit? He's gone, but it still feels like he's won."

Stan shifts in his bed as much as he comfortably can - which isn't a lot. His nose wrinkles.

"I would say that you kinda both lost. We all fucking lost. At least..." he looks Kyle up and down. "I don't know, at least things are finally cool between us now."

Kyle narrows his eyes at the small smile on Stan's face.

"I don't think Cartman being gone has anything to do with that."

"No, but I just wanted to let you know I'm glad." His smile grows wider. "I think this is a piece of normal I wanna keep."

Kyle nods. He may miss Cartman, but he's also realising how much he's missed this, being Stan's super best friend. It's the only easy thing he has in his life right now. He smiles.

"Me too."

* * *

Kyle is having what feels like the best night's sleep he's had in a while, when he's woken up by the sound of a familiar song drifting into his room. One of his favourite songs, in fact.

_"I'm coming back, love, cruel Heathcliff, my one dream, my only master..."_

He sits up, frowning, and rubbing his eyes. He searches his room for the source of the sound, and discovers it's actually coming from below his window.

_"Too long I roam in the night, I'm coming back to his side to put it right, I'm coming home to Wuthering, Wuthering, Wuthering Heights..."_

He peeks through the blinds and feels like a train has hit him when he sees Cartman standing in his frontyard, blasting _Wuthering Heights_ through a fucking boombox held over his head.

_"Heathcliff, it's me, Cathy, come home, I'm so cold, let me in-a-your window"_

His ears are ringing, and the world feels unsteady. Especially when Cartman looks like, well, _Cartman_ again. Although he's a bit worse for wear. His clothes seem charred, his hair dishevelled but he looks like he did before he signed the deal. He looks more like a ghost than ever. The streetlight illuminates his grin, as goading and infuriating as ever, and it pulls Kyle out of his terrified, relieved haze.

He swallows, jaw pulling tight and teeth gritted as he leaps out of bed, and shoves his feet into his shoes. He grabs his jacket and is slipping it on as he marches down the hallway and jogs down the stairs. He isn't scared anymore. He wants nothing more than to confront Cartman, to demand answers for why he has so suddenly, brazenly, showed up again. He storms out of his front door and towards him. Wispy snow billows around them, but Kyle ignores the stinging cold. Cartman seems just as content to ignore Kyle's glare, his flared nostrils, his charged, purposeful stride. His shoulders and grin soften.

"Hey, how's it- _oof!_ " Cartman huffs as Kyle tackles him to the ground.

The Kate Bush track comes to an abrupt end when the boombox crashes to the ground. Kyle is hit with deja vu, trying to pin Cartman down, but this time he's not thrashing, not snarling, not animalistic at all. He looks wronged, hurt, but his teeth are gritted, and his lips are tight and angry as Kyle tries to pin him to the snow - which is actually very difficult.

"What the fuck?!" Kyle yells in his face amidst the huffs and grunts as Cartman tries to overpower him and Kyle tries to subdue him. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Kyle, dude, stop!" Cartman cries. "Will you just stop?!"

Kyle relents, exhausted. He can't keep this up all night. He sits up, thighs either side of Cartman's waist. He stares down at him, flushed, and panting in the snow. Cartman's eyes are gleaming and wide as he stares up at him, like he's never seen someone so formidable. He scowls, and sits up, and as Kyle watches him move he can't believe he's in front of him again, that's he's heard his voice, and touched him again. It can't be possible, it's too much. This shouldn't have happened. Kyle feels like the world has tore open, and the pressure of the universe is crowding around him, clamping around his heart. It's too dangerous for them to be so close, but Kyle doesn't want him to go. In fact, he wants to do the one thing he thought he would never do again. He may as well. He grabs Cartman's face and pulls him to his lips.

He almost breaks his nose - and Cartman's nose - with the force of it, kissing him so hard that his lips start to tingle with numbness. It's hard to breathe, and Cartman is still for a moment. He flexes into the kiss like he did the very first time their lips met, keening to Kyle like he wants to fuse their faces together. He grabs the back of Kyle's hair with one hand, and wraps his arms around his waist and clutches his jacket with the other, pulling Kyle closer onto his lap. Their hands start to roam, shaky, and desperate, and anxious that this will all be over too soon and they want to grab, and feel, and savour every inch of each other. Kyle tugs at Cartman's hair, his shoulders, his face, his back, his chest, and Cartman too pulls at Kyle's hair, slips his hands under his jacket and shirt, cups his face, and his ass. He moans when Kyle tugs hard at his hair and nips his lips.

"I missed you so fucking much," he murmurs against Kyle's mouth.

Kyle nods, whimpering, before reality returns to him and he realises he can't just sit here in the snow, making out with Cartman all night. He places his hands on Cartman's chest and pushes him away. He doesn't remove himself from his lap.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Kyle asks. "I thought I..."

Cartman raises his eyebrows.

"What?"

Kyle flushes, prickles all over.

"I thought I killed you..."

Cartman grins, rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, you killed me! But where was I gonna go? Detroit?"

Kyle blinks, frowning.

"Huh?"

"Guess that joke only works in Hell..."

Kyle rolls his eyes.

"Debatable. How..." Kyle shakes his head, chuckles in disbelief. "This is so messed up. How do I even know this is real? How do I know you're actually here in front of me?"

Cartman's eyes wander away from Kyle, and he chews his lip as he thinks.

"Oh!" he says with a grin. "I know!"

He leans forward, and Kyle freezes when he feels his hot breath on his neck, remembering how unnerving it was in the barn, but it seems to thaw him out now. Cartman sinks his teeth in, and because he has normal, human teeth now he has to dig in harder, hold Kyle's skin between his canines for a lot longer until he breaks the skin. Kyle seethes, squeezes his eyes shut.

"Ow!"

Cartman sucks at the tiny beads of blood, humming against Kyle's skin as he laves at the bite. He presses his nose to his throat, and breathes a long, warm sigh against the wound that makes Kyle shiver. He doesn't take his eyes off Kyle as he pulls back, and swipes his flushed, red lip with his thumb.

"Did that feel real?"

Kyle frowns, shrugging.

"I guess so? Doesn't explain why you're here though."

A soft smile spreads across Cartman's face.

"I came to see you, of course."

Kyle scoffs in disbelief.

"Don't you wanna go home? See your mom? Have a shower?"

Cartman leans back, bare palms resting in the show and Kyle wonders if he can feel the cold.

"Not really." He shrugs. "I can't stay for long. I just had unfinished business to attend to."

Kyle gulps at how foreboding that sounds. Does Cartman want to take him to Hell? Is Cartman going to win after all, and have him for good?

"So you came up here to kill me..."

Cartman blinks, a crease in his brow as he eyes Kyle up and down.

"No! I came up here to..." his eyes wander away from Kyle again, before he sighs and returns his gaze. "Apologise."

That was the last thing Kyle was expecting.

"Huh?"

"Yeah, apologise!" Cartman laughs, even he knows how bizarre it sounds. "Sitting around in eternal hellfire where there are no clocks or calendars gives you some time to reflect, and it made me realise how dumb I was. I've been thinking about what you said, about how I always take the easiest route, no matter how insane, or dangerous, or destructive, and... there isn't a lot I can do about it now, sure, but I thought you would like to know you were right."

Kyle arches an eyebrow.

"Cartman, I knew I was right."

"Still, I thought you might wanna hear it, and that you would wanna know that I now realise it was totally the wrong call and it backfired enormously. But I also want you to know that I really did feel like it was the only way you would ever want me. I mean, look at me now!" He sighs, shoulders drooping. "Would you really have wanted to be with _this?"_

Kyle frowns, raking his gaze over him, before grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him to his lips again. He kisses him, firm and indulgent, and Cartman returns the kiss as eagerly as before. Their breaths are hitched when they part, Kyle's fingers are still in his hair and he looks into his eyes. He sighs, smiling.

"Right now... since you've been gone..." his hand comes around, and he strokes his cheek. "I've never wanted you more."

Cartman gives him the shyest smile Kyle has ever seen, before it morphs into a trademark, wicked grin.

"I knew you'd miss me."

Kyle nods, figuring there's no point in fighting it. Nor is there any point in fighting how much he wants to kiss his lips.

"You have no idea..." he murmurs against his mouth, before they kiss again. "What happened, though?" Kyle asks after a while. "Why have you changed back?"

Cartman sighs.

"That song took all my power away from me. It nullified the contract."

"Was Damien pissed?"

Cartman scoffs.

"Yeah, at you. You better watch your back when you die."

Kyle is instantly wracked with anxiety.

"I'm not going to hell," he says, in an attempt to alleviate said anxiety.

"Yeah, you are. Only Mormons go to heaven."

Kyle huffs, rolling his eyes.

"That is some bullshit."

"Tell me about it." Cartman chuckles.

Kyle sighs, looking down and wringing his hands a little.

"Look, as long as you're here... apologising, or whatever, I guess I should say sorry for killing you."

"Do I have to forgive you?"

"I understand if you don't want to," Kyle mumbles, though he's secretly hoping he will.

"Oh. Then I don't forgive you. It kinda blew."

"What's hell like?"

Cartman tilts his head as he considers his answer.

"Pretty chill? Boring, actually. It's just like earth, but you're forced to think about, like, the consequences of your actions all day? Even when you try not to. Oh, and there's a lot more torture. You see a wailing guy chained to a big rock every few feet."

Kyle grimaces, horrified.

"Jesus, what did they do?"

Cartman shrugs.

"Nothing. They seem to like it. Everyone is kinky as fuck down there."

Kyle snorts, chuckling. Cartman just watches him with a thoughtful, endeared expression.

"I'm just waiting for you to show up..." he admits.

Kyle blinks, eyebrows furrowing when it hits him that he may never get to do this again. He shuffles closer, knees wet in the snow.

"You can't come visit?"

Cartman shakes his head, mouth scrunched up.

"I don't know. Luckily, Damien has a soft spot for me but..." he sighs, before smiling at Kyle. "I think it's better if I wait for you. I've got nothing to lose."

Kyle frowns, heart stinging acutely.

"You might be waiting a while though."

"I don't care. Gives us a lot to talk about."

"I'll probably be an old man by then."

"Then we'll just take walks in the park."

Kyle chokes on a sad, small laugh. The sting has travelled from his heart and into his nose and eyes. Cartman is blurry now. He rests his forehead against his and closes his eyes. A tear slides down his cheek.

"I'd like that..." he whispers.

Cartman keens to his touch, noses brushing together. Kyle imagine he's closing his eyes too. Cartman's hand is on the nape of his neck, his fingers play with his hair. Kyle takes a shuddering breath.

"I'm really sorry."

"Me too." Cartman sighs. "But we both did what we thought was right."

Kyle nods, opening his eyes. Cartman is smiling tightly at him. His own eyes are glimmering, but he swipes the corner of Kyle's eyes with his thumb.

"Let me do the waiting, okay? You gotta have a life so I can hear all about it."

Kyle nods again, with another wet, rueful chuckle. Cartman presses a long, firm kiss to his forehead. Their eyes meet, and it reminds Kyle of that night in his room, when it felt like they were the only two people in the world. He's glad he gets to feel that again. Right now, it really does feel like a world he'd want to be a part of.

"Bye, Kyle," he whispers.

Kyle's nose stings once more, and tears pool at his lashes.

"Bye..."

Kyle wakes up with a start, sitting bolt upright. He's trembling, panting, and he's filled with fear that his encounter with Cartman was just a dream. He lifts his hand to his neck, and his fingers brush against a tender spot, crusty with dried blood. He fumbles to turn the lamp on, throwing back the covers and padding to the mirror on the other side of his bedroom.

He spots the bite immediately. The beginnings of a bruise, the unmistakable indentions of teeth. It will heal and fade, but it feels like a stamp on his soul. That film encasing him breaks apart and slides away, and Cartman's shadow disappears. He traces the outline of the bite with his finger, and smiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! The idea for this story hit me out of nowhere, and I have loved every second of writing it. Never did it feel like a chore, and while I'm always happy to have finished a fic, I'm really gonna miss writing it. I, of course, have to say a huge thank you to everyone who has read, subscribed, left kudos, bookmarked, and commented! The reception to this story has been wonderful, and beyond what I could have ever imagined so thank you so, so much. It means the world to me. As always, stay tuned for more fics! I hope you can join me. So, for one last time, the playlist has been updated (https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7KnR5qywStFRJrbuKUfoHt?si=wvnsZYt-S7uTSxSefolCfw), and songs are listed below:
> 
> Cruel Summer - Taylor Swift
> 
> when the party's over - Billie Eilish
> 
> Wuthering Heights - Kate Bush
> 
> Spiderhead - Cage the Elephant
> 
> This Is Why We Fight - The Decemberists
> 
> Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time - The Darkness
> 
> I Know You Love Me - Smoking Popes
> 
> Running Up That Hill (cover) - Placebo
> 
> <3


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